


FNaDR

by UncrownedKing



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Except like, OCs i guess, Other, a piece of prose, but no one knows them, so there are ships, some people - Freeform, than an actual fanfiction, this is a lot more like, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncrownedKing/pseuds/UncrownedKing
Summary: This is basically a crossover between FNaF and DR, but most, if not all, of the FNaF characters are more like OCS.  If you know them, then great!  This is exactly the story you think it is!  If you don't know them, then everyone who helped to make these characters, including myself for some of them, hopes you enjoy them, and I hope you enjoy the story! <3





	1. Prologue

There it was. Marble walls, pristine and white, looming above me. It was amazing, almost haunting, the sun making the clean building glow with the same amount of brilliance that the students inside were gifted with. The thought of the students, my now peers, made me shiver a little. I wasn’t the same, I wasn’t special. Luck was what got me in.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Gideon Fazbear, and this school is the famous Hope’s Peak Academy. Here, the greatest students in the nation were invited to enroll and excel. Graduating from HPA promised fame, glory, and success, to anyone who entered. For the longest time, students were only invited in, and there was no way to be invited unless you were good at something. Take my brother for example. He was accepted and invited based on his singing skills, which garnered him international fame. He was invited because of his skills, because he’s better than the best.

Me, though? Luck. A few years ago, a new program was opened – the Super High School Level Luck Raffle. All of the high school students in the nation had their names put into the system, and it shoots out one student every year. This year, it was me. I’m nothing special, I have no skill, I’m nothing. Just lucky.

I gripped my bag more. It was enrollment day, and my brother were here to put our names on the list. The building was ominous; it was supposed to be hopeful. It was supposed to be a promise of success and excitement and adventure. Maybe it was how the building was too white. Maybe it was too perfect.

I sucked in a breath and looked forwards. My brother waved me down the path, for me to follow. I nodded and took a step forwards, but didn’t. The image of my brother swirled. The image of the school swirled. This wasn’t right, I was right, something was wrong. Something was very wrong. A ball dropped in my stomach as my vision blurred out and went black. The faint sound of laughter was the last thing I remembered, and I was filled with the feeling of despair.


	2. 1: (Ab)Normal Days — Chapter 1

_Round and round the mulberry bush_

_The monkey chased the weasel_

 

“Hey, hey dude, you’ve gotta wake up, we’re waitin’ on you.”

“Do you think he’s dead?”

“No fucking way, don’t say that!”

“He’s so beautiful, his hair’s very pretty.  Golden locks.  Goldie locks!”

“Shut up, talk about my brother like that and I’ll kill you!”

 

_The monkey stopped to tie up a knot_

_Pop!_

 

Gideon jolted awake, yelling.  His head collided with another’s, someone was leaning over him.  The other boy stumbled backwards, holding his head and groaning a little.  “Well, that solves one thing!  He ain’t dead!”

Freddy breathed a sigh of relief, helping Gideon sit up a bit more.  “God bless,” he yelled, waving everyone to back off as he leaned down and whispered to his brother, “Gid, Giddy you doing ok?”

He was shaking a little, patting Freddy’s face and arms to make sure he’s real.  Someone behind Freddy hollered, “Damnit!  Whoever kidnapped us needs something stronger, I’ll hook them up.”

“Zat’s illegal.”

“Aye, ye best not be gettin’ near any o’ us with that.”

His head felt like it was going to explode, so many people were talking.  At least the room was cool.  He looked past Freddy and stood up, using Freddy’s shoulder to help himself.  Freddy stood up too and watched him carefully, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.  There were….thirteen people, not including him and his brother, in a place that looked sort of like a hotel lobby.  Where were they?

As though reading his mind, Freddy answered, “We don’t know where we are, a voice said that he’d explain in a bit but….God, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

One of the other teens, a girl dressed in a dirty brown apron and had a dirty yellow bandana around her neck, waved her hand.  “Oh, c’mon, Freddy, of course he is!  Not like any of US died while being brought here or whatever!” she sounded annoyed.

Another girl, wearing a white apron and had light yellow mittens, smacked her arm.  “Hey, come off it!  We’ve all had a long day, okay?”

“She’s right, ye best be stuffin’ it where ye mouth is,” the girl in the white apron was pulled back by a rowdy looking boy, fiery red hair tied back, and….with a hook for a hand? “This here lad’s had a rough time wif it.”

“Everyone, just calm down,” a tall, well-dressed boy with a slight French accent spread his arms out a little, as though trying to gently wave the tension away, “We can’t be arguing, we just need to get to the bottom of this.”

A shorter boy next to him puffed out his chest and squeaked, “Yeah!  If we start fighting now, we’re all gonna die!  But that’d be fun to watch.  Keep fighting!”

“Oh, shut your trap,” a tall blonde boy with blue fringes to his long hair shushed him, while taking out – where did he get that cigarette? “Don’t start anything.”

A short but stout boy in blue overalls laughed.  “But, c’mon, it’d be fun!” he sounded more like he was screaming than actually talking, Gideon covered his ears a little.

“What would be?  I think it’d be more fun getting to the bottom of this,” a nervous looking boy with a security uniform was shaking.

He was patted comfortingly by another man, who had a mechanic’s apron on and a worn looking hat, “It’s ok, we’re going to learn more about it in a bit, right?”

“We’d fucking better, or I’m going to scream!” A girl in a light pink blouse and a white skirt shouted, balling her fists and fidgeting, “Oh, I hate being cooped up like this!  I hate being kidnapped!  What’d we do?!”

“Calm your junk, dude,” a cool looking guy in a purple leather jacket rolled his eyes, “We just need to keep level.”

Freddy rolled his eyes.  “Sadly, the punk rocker’s right.  We just need to stay calm, everything’s gonna be explained in a bit, alright?  Plus, the bear thing said we should get to know each other, so lets.”

This suggestion was met with a lot of groans and muttered disagreements, but everyone seemed to oblige.  Gideon didn’t need to, though.  He’d looked everyone up earlier, before they….before they left to enroll.  He wanted to see who was in his new class, anyhow.  It wasn’t creepy.  They’re all famous, afterall.

Gideon turned to look at Freddy.  His older brother, by about five minutes, the Super High School Level Singer.  He had toured the world, starting on Youtube by doing cover songs and making it big.  Like Justin Beiber, except better looking, better singing, and a better person.  He was often away from home, singing in concerts and such.  Gideon’d even helped writing some of the songs that Freddy got famous for.  He sang mostly pop, but sometimes he could do a solid opera, or even choir.  His vocal variety was well esteemed.  They had dressed sort of similarly, both wearing hats, for luck, and Freddy was in his khaki slacks and a white button down shirt, with a black bowtie on.  

Freddy nudged him into the group, “C’mon, Gid, might as well meet some people.”

He gulped down a breath and walked around, trying to follow Freddy.  With his luck though–

“Oof! Oh, excuse me, I vas not vatching vhere I vas going.”

Gideon was knocked down, and scratched his head.  Of course, he manages to run into one of the Super High Schoolers.  He probably damaged some of their equipment or something.  “No-no, it was-was my fault, sorry,” he pushed himself up and looked up at Alfie.

This was Alfred Tolkien, the Super High School Level Blacksmith.  Although a forgotten art, his craftsmanship was said to be some of the best in the world, making the most durable swords and arrowheads, able to cut through bullet proof clothing.  He was asked to make seppuku swords for the military, but quit and began to produce all around purpose weapons.  He was very large, with broad shoulders, good for swinging the iron hammer, and was dressed in a loose-fitting brown shirt and baggy brown pants, with thick black boots.  The work made him very muscular, but also very soft.  He was also well-known for his kindheartedness, being called one of the “Last Samurai”.

Alfie gave him a small smile and patted Gideon’s back, making him stumble forwards a little bit.  Gideon wasn’t exactly a small person, he was about 6 feet tall himself, but even he was dwarfed by the blacksmith.  Upon seeing Gideon’s uneasiness, however, Alfie turned around and said, “Terri, come here, zis guy zeems a little off put!”

“Well, ain’t that a surprise,” a sarcastic voice sang, “Look around, Alf, this place is a fucking mess!”

Ah, so this was Terence Bonneth, the Super High School Level Fashion Designer.  Rumor has it that he was one of the first designers for esteemed model, Junko Enoshima.  He had his own section at fashion shows, always producing the perfect look for the up-coming season.  Much of his clothes was overpriced, but all designer clothes is, and he had been producing clothes since he was a child.   He soared to fame when he predicted the next season’s look perfectly, and since then, he hasn’t looked back.  Today, the fashion god was wearing blue skinny jeans and a dark blue blouse, a white vest on top of it, and white rimmed sunglasses, covering his eyes.

He looked Gideon up and down over the rim of his sunglasses and huffed.  Gideon squirmed a little, as though he were being judged.  “U-Uh, it’s nice-nice to meet you two,” he stuttered out, “I’m Gi-Gideon, the, uh…”

Alfie nodded, “Ja, eet eez good to meet you, too!”

Terence rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, “Yeah, yeah, our token of Luck, aintcha?  You’d look good in gold, it’s bring out your eyes.  Maybe a blue bow tie.  Or maybe nothing.  You’d look good in nothing.”

Gideon backed away from that conversation pretty fast, giving a quick goodbye to Alfred.  Shit, where had Freddy gone?  He walked around, pushing through the crowd, and fuck, there’s a hook two inches from his eye.  He ducked, covering his face, when he heard coarse laughter.  “Aye, I’m just messin’, ye lily livered fool,” he glanced up and saw Foxy smiling at him and holding out a hand, “Sorry about that, I sumtimes forget me hand ain’t there.”

The Super High School Level Pirate, Foxy, or Crevan Teach, sure did live up to his name.  He grew up on a boat, until it was taken over by pirates and he was raised as one of their own.  However, they were “privateers” and technically were allowed to do everything.  Nothing illegal was ever reported on them, anyway, so he can’t be all that bad.  Since the ship’s real captain died, Foxy’d been captaining the ship, ever since he was 13, and they took down other legitimate pirates.  It wasn’t the most fitting name, but it had a better ring to it than “Super High School Level Privateer”.  Plus, he fit the bill to be a pirate more, with his glistening silver hook and dark red get up.

Anyway, back to the hand that was being offered to him.  Gideon took Foxy’s hand and he pulled him up, smiling all the way.  “Yer Freddy’s brother, eh?” he laughed, “The bastard’s been shootin’ me dirty looks all day.  Ye don’t seem half bad, though.  If sumfin’s up, stick to me, aye?  I’ll get ye outta here in one piece.”

He clapped him on the back.  Gideon smiled and scratched the back of his head.  “Uh, yea-yeah!  Thanks, Fo-Foxy.  It’s good to meet you, to-too.”

Foxy winked at him and gave him a toothy grin.  “Aye, likewise.  I’m goin’ ta go meet the others, I haven’t exactly done me homework when it came to knowin’ everyone.”

He stalked off into the crowd and Gideon watched him go, smiling a little.  At least he’d made a friend.  Then someone ran into him.

He jumped, turning around when he heard a small “Ow…” The girl in the white apron rubbed her back.  

“O-Oh!  I’m so-I’m sorry, Chica, a-are you alright?” he offered her a hand, which she pulled herself up with, brushing herself down once she got up.

“Yep!  No damage, thanks!” she gave him a large smile, “Gideon, right?  I already talked to your brother, he said you’re a nice person!”

He smiled a little.  That’s good, the Super High School Level Baker was also a pretty nice person, Chica Sanders.  Her baking is renowned throughout the nation, how she can infuse hints of special flavors into her cakes and cupcakes, how she can make some of the most detailed decorations on her confectionaries ever seen.  She even baked the cake for the Prime Minister’s wedding, a five layered “fruit salad” cake that actually tasted a little like watermelon!  Her bakery, aptly named “The Coop” was also known for being open to the homeless – you had the option to pay it forwards, write your name on a sticky note, and put it on a large wall, where someone who was hungry could take it down and turn it into the counter to get a free slice of cake.  Her apron was pristine and white, though some areas were a different shade of white, maybe flour?  Her messy blonde hair also had some sort of white powdery feel to it, as though she had accidentally spilled some flour.

Gideon laughed as she leaned in and hugged him tightly.  “I hope we can be friends, ya seem like a really, really cool fella!” she giggled.

“Yea-Yeah, that sounds-that sounds good,” he smiled and patted her back.

She, too, left to meet the other students.  He waded around a bit more, seeing two people hiding in a back corner, and approached them.  They seemed to be arguing about something.  “Ferrucio, buddy, I really don’t think this is a safe place.  They’re gonna do something bad to us, I know it,” the boy in the guard’s uniform stated.

The other boy, the boy in the mechanic’s clothes, shook his head.  “Well, moping and hiding isn’t going to improve it at all.  Maybe this is just a nice meet and greet?  We need to meet everyone!”

“I just met you, isn’t that enough?”

“Not just me!  You can’t just know me!”

“That’s all I need.”

Gideon sighed quietly, going unnoticed.  So the Super High School Level Security Guard was afraid of meeting people, eh?  Figures, his entire job revolves around not trusting them.  Michael Schmidt, or Mike as he is better known by, has worked at the Japanese Royal Bank for his entire life, since he was younger and needed a job.  He gained fame by stopping a large heist when he was in middle school, garnering him a reputation for being the best guard on the force.  Though it wasn’t a very big job, it was still very, very important.  Even off duty, he wore his badge with pride, and his entire blue outfit, too.  

He was being comforted by the Super High School Level Engineer, Ferrucio Bianchi, not to be confused with the SHSL Mechanic, from years prior.  Ferrucio wasn’t the kind of guy who just fixed automobiles for a living, no, he worked on large robot projects, he was one of the head supervisors in developing a fully functioning drone robot, which could be remote controlled, perfect for the military instead of sending actual soldiers.  He also made small tinkering robots, a robot that measured medications, a robot that drove cars, any robot that needed to do something, he could build it.  The pockets of his worker’s apron were surely filled with small gears and wires, and he had goggles on the top of his head, next to the ragged brown hat.

Ferrucio looked up and noticed Gideon was watching, smiling and waving shakily.  “Hello there!”

Gideon waved back, “Hi, so-sorry I was-was just standing there, I didn’t know-I wasn’t sure if you guys wa-wanted to talk.”

“Oh, of course!  It’s good to meet more people,” Ferrucio gave Mike a knowing smile, to which he just rolled his eyes too.

Mike glanced up at Gideon, guarded.  “Yeah, whatever.”

Gideon put his hands up defensively, grinning a little, afraid.  Mike didn’t seem like he wanted anything to do with them.  “U-Uh, I’m Gi-Gideon!”

Ferrucio lit up.  “Oh, you’re our Super Luck, right?  It’s good to meet you,” he held out a hand to shake, which Gideon took graciously.

But he needed to move on.  He waved Ferrucio and Mike off, going back through the crowd.  “HEY, YOU, BUB!” he stiffened and turned around, shaking.

The small stout boy was staring at him, arms on his hips.  “YOU’RE THE LUCKY ONE, EH?  NICE TO MEETCHA!  I’M BRUCE!”

How could he forget Bruce.  “Nice to mee-meet you, too, Bruce.”  Bruce Cunningham, the Super High School Level Aeronaut, though he prefered his own self-made term of “Ballooneer”.  He often flies high in his hot air balloon, competing in races and in height for prizes.  He is also known for making balloon animals in his spare time, practicing while he sat in his hot air one.  He’d drop the balloon animals and children were enthralled when they were graced with one of them. Other than that, though, not much was known about him.  He sorta looked like a balloon, too; his blue overalls and white-red pin-stripped shirt made him look just as bright as one of his flying contraptions.

Bruce grabbed his hand and shook it up and down haphazardly, Gideon holding the hand with his other to stop.  “NICE, NICE!  CATCHA LATER!” the boy bounced away, leaving Gideon holding his shaken hand and staring in half awe, half confusion.

“He’s a bit of a handful, ain’t he?” Gideon jumped and saw the other short boy standing next to him, cross armed, smiling at the receding back of the Ballooneer, “A bit full of himself, though.  You don’t seem so, though, mon ami.”

He turned and glanced up at Gideon, not smiling, and Gideon grimaced a little.  Steven Grey, the Super High School Level Knife Thrower, although small, was very intimidating.  He was taught how to throw knives in a circus, learning to do so from extreme distances with pinpoint accuracy.  His older brother had abstained from joining the school for three years until he could join, so that they’d be in the same year.  His aim was perfect, and apparently his person was as cold as his blades, so Gideon really had no idea how he was accepted, other than though his older brother. His skills were never something to question, though; once someone did, and they were impaled in the side of the head from a knife He always had at least five knives on his body, too.  Gideon couldn’t tell where they were, he was wearing a long coat, a regular white long sleeve, and….stiletto high heels.  Wow.

“You don’t seem like much of a threat, either,” Gideon shrugged at the remark, “Is it because you’re scaaared?  Or are you really as weak as you look~?”

His voice changed.  Gideon jumped a little, looking down at Steven, but he just saw the same cold, small boy.  “Watch your back, alright?  This doesn’t seem like the most welcoming welcome party.”

A gloved hand came down and patted Steven’s shoulder.  He wrapped an arm around his brother, Vincent, who held a hand out to Gideon.  “Vincent, nice to meet you, Lucky,” he winked.

Vincent Grey, the Super High School Level Gunslinger, also had perfect aim, but was as warm as a gun’s barrel.  His jet black hair was messy, and his skin was a bit darker than Steven’s paleness.  He was clad in a heavy looking jacket and had an empty ammo holder strapped across his chest.  He held the national record for trap shooting, and once shot an apple off of the Prince’s head on a dare.  He’s never missed anything, a from a target to a body, as rumor said that he and his brother sold their skills out to the public.  That didn’t seem very likely to Gideon, though, and he couldn’t really find much evidence to support it.  He was a hotshot, though.  He had held his own enrollment to Hopes’ Peak hostage for three years, almost blackmailing the school into making sure his brother got in.  There was never a question about that, though; if they didn’t let Steven in, then he’d probably have stabbed them from fifty miles away.

“Gi-Gideon,” he shook the firm hand and offered a frightened smile.

His fear was probably very visible, as Vincent laughed heartily.  “Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “Just make sure you’re standing on MY side of the gun, when time comes, eh?”

Steven smiled at him, offering his own hand as Vincent retracted his.  “Steven!  Hope you’re our lucky charm, Gideon!” he chimed, blowing a kiss at him.

As if on command, Gideon swooned a little and Vincent laughed again.  Woah, no where did he read that the kid was as smooth as one of his knives, too.  Gideon staggered backwards and hastily muttered something about needing to meet more people.  Vincent nodded and called Steven back in another language – French perhaps?  It got Steven to wave Gideon away, though.

There was the girl.  And the other girl.  Well, now or never.  Gideon took a deep breath and walked up to th– “DEE, HOW ARE YOU NOT SCARED?!”

“Ah am scared, but yellin’ about it ain’t gonna help–”

“IT’S STRESS RELIEVING!”

“Daw, come off it, Maggie!”

The girl in the dirty apron was sitting on one of the couches as the girl with the light colored blouse was pacing in front of her.  She saw Gideon and waved him over.  “Here, Gid, tell ‘er!  Bein’ scared about it’s gonna spend energy we might need later, aye?”

The other girl looked up and glared at him.  Gideon straightened up and stared into the eyes of the Super High School Level Florist, Magnolia Renards.  She wasn’t that scary – in fact, her floral shop was known for having the healthiest flowers ever – he was just under a lot of stress.  Everything was home grown, and she even arranged at funerals, weddings, and other occasions.  Each bouquet was said to have been made especially for the circumstances, and no two bouquets were alike.  She even had a flower at the moment, a light pink rose in her hair, holding it back from falling in her face.  Other than that, her clothes were equally as “flowy”, giving her the look that she was easy-going.  She pursed her lips and sighed.  “I guess you’re right, Dee.  Sorry, I’m just so scared,” she shivered, holding herself.

The other girl stood up and hugged her, “It’s gonna be alright, Maggie, don’t you worry.”

Chikadee Foal, or Dee apparently, was the Super High School Level Brewer.  Even here, she was wearing a dirty apron, and clothes that were covered in beer splotches, and even a hankerchief around her neck which would have made it easier to breathe in the factory.  She made her own beer, a brand called “Cika” and it quickly became the most drunk beer in Japan.  Other breweries hounded her for her secret recipes, but she never told, nor did she ever cave when they offered to buy the brand from her.  She tasted each batch herself, one sip being all she needed to know to make sure that the beer was perfect.  She even produced tinted flavored beers, such as vanilla and honey lemon.  

Dee smiled at him as he introduced himself sheepishly.  “Nah, no problem Gid!  Can ah call ya Gid?  Ah’m gonna call ya Gid!” she laughed, earning a small giggle from Magnolia, “Yeah, me and Maggie go way back!  I’m so glad we both made it in!”

“A-Ah, same with you, D-Dee,” Magnolia smiled, and Dee clucked and hugged her tight.

Gideon slowly backed away.  He didn’t really know what else to do in that situation.  He backed away and right into.

“Dude, watch where you’re steppin’.”

He tumbled backwards, falling over for about the third time that day.  Curse his shitty “luck”.  However, there was a purple gloved hand reaching out for him.  He looked up and took it, being lifted to his feet by Classy.

Clarence Bonneth was his real name, but he prefered his stage name, Classy.  The Super High School Level Guitarist was a real rockstar, dressed in purple leather, with a signature smirking smile painted on his face.  He rose to fame, and Gideon’d met him a few times before, when he did shows with Freddy.  He had almost the same sort of origin, only much, much earlier.  He was playing guitar for movies in original scores since elementary school, a prodigy on the strings some called him.  He ran a hand through his purple-black hair.  He sure was something.

“How you handling, Gideon?” Classy asked, “This ain’t exactly the easiest apple to chew.”

Gideon nodded jerkily.  “Yeah, u-uh, it’s a bit weird.”

“Damn straight.  I hate not knowing what’s gonna happen next.  It’s a sort of helplessness, ya feel?”

Gideon nodded again.

Classy sighed and looked into the crowd.  Everyone was still talking to everyone.  He looked down, “Better get a move on, before Jason breaks something.”

“Jason?”

“IN COMING!”

The fifteenth, and last student, came diving onto the couch.  He seemed to have run from across the room for the perfect landing.  There was a crack as he hit the couch, and the entire thing crumbled down, but he still struck a pose.  He nodded towards Gideon, smirking, and said, “Hey.”

Gideon chuckled.  Jason S. Trap, the Super High School Level Stuntman, was great at entrances.  He was asked to do a few movies himself after he stunted for big name actors, even some actresses.  He specialized in blending himself during shots, so that his face was unseeable and he himself was unrecognizable.  People often couldn’t tell he was even in a movie until the credits rolled, and nothing was too extreme for him.  Stunts ranged from jumping out of a plane, to running alongside a train, to fighting ninjas.  

Jason still had the cigarette from earlier in his mouth, which he took out and blew a puff from as he sat up.  Classy was giving him a slow clap, and he mock bowed.  “Thank you, thank you, you’ve been a wonderful audience,” he smirked, slinging an arm around Gideon, “How you doing?  This shit sucks, eh?”

That was pretty casual.  Gideon snorted with laughter, and Jason followed suit.  “We-Well, wha-what else would you-you describe this all?” Gideon wiped his face and stood up again.

“Beats me.  Before you woke up, this black and white bear thing came in and said that we had to wait until all students were present.  Then, we’d all get acquainted, and THEN he’d explain what we’re doing here.  It’s all sorta bullshit, though.”

“Y-Yeah,” Gideon shivered, “I mea-mean, what-what if we’re being-being held hostage?”

Jason shrugged.  Classy seemed to have left, so it was just Gideon and the stuntman, “It seems like a big show to put on just for a hostage situation, maybe a little too big.  Who the fuck knows?  You want a cig?”

He had pulled the cigarette box out of his pocket and held it out.  Gideon waved his hand dismissively, “No, thank-no, thank you.”

He shrugged and took one out of the pack, “Your loss,” and he twirled it around in his fingers.

Gideon looked the guy up and down.  He had a nice body, solid, well-worked.  Though, he wasn’t as ripped as shit as Alfie was, he was lean, and his muscles could be seen beneath the black shirt he was wearing.  Did it get hotter in here?  It got hotter in here.  Before Gideon could say anything about the temperature of the room, however, a scratchy voice sounded above all of the clatter.

“Hey, you bastards~! Time to get this show on the road!  Now, let’s go outside, and we can have some _real_ fun!”


	3. 1: (Ab)Normal Days — Chapter 2

Everyone filled out the front door.  As they left, Gideon took one last sweeping look of the room, now that no one was in it.  Three couches, surrounding a coffee table.  There were blinds, which pointed at another wall, and therefore were generally useless.  There was sunlight, however, pouring through them.  There was a reception desk with no one behind it, a wall with a number of pegs, an elevator, which showed that the building had 16 floors as each….Huh?  He moved forwards, inspecting the placard for the floors.  “Gideon Fazbear, first floor.  Freddy Fazbear, second floor.  Crevan Teach….” the list went on, each student gaining their own floor.  Interesting.

He looked over the reception desk and knocked on the bulky computer.  Hollow.  There were papers scattered on the desk, nothing that looked useful.  Gideon sighed again, looking at the main door.  It was glass, Jason’s face was pressed against it, telling him to get a damn move on.  Above the door was a clock, whose hands were spinning way too fast.  Like, WAY too fast.  He shook his head.  This was probably some weird, fucked up dream.  

Exiting, Gideon followed Jason down the block to where the rest of the students went.  There was a….15?  Maybe more?  Car pile up in the middle of the road, blocking off part of the block.  As he approached the group, he noticed that there was a white and….gold.  White and gold.  White and gold bear, standing on top of a car, with a megaphone.  “Hello, about damn time you joined us!” he shouted in a squeaky, high pitched voice, as Gideon and Jason approached, “Now the class assembly can get started~!”

“Uh, dude,” Jason twirled the cigarette in his fingers, “Weren’t you black and white earlier?”

The bear looked at itself and struck a pose.  “What, you don’t like my new color scheme?  I was feeling more regal~!”

“Huh.  Gold and white does look pretty good,” Terence was examining him, “It equals each other out.  Doesn’t make you any less crazy.”

“Are we ser-are we seriously here because of a stuffed bear?” Gideon squinted at him, seeing him for the first time.

The bear laughed and threw his hands into the air.  “I’m a lot more than just a teddy!  If it doesn’t look good, I’ll just stab out your eyes!”

Alfie, who had put a hand on Terence’s shoulder to calm him down, growled at the bear, “Don’t you touch him!”

“Aww, we have couples in the show~? Great!” the golden bear clapped excitedly and Gideon could feel a ball drop in his stomach, “It’s just like high school already!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Classy rolled his eyes boredly, “So what’re we doing?  Why’re we here?”

The bear threw his hands into the air.  “Good questions!  I’m Kirikuma now, your loveable principal!  And we’re on a field trip!”

“To where?” Ferrucio yelled, “Where ARE we?  What’re-What’re you gonna do with us?”

“Yeah!  Just because we’re Super High School doesn’t mean we’re loaded!” Dee cried, “No good blackmailing!”

The golden bear laughed.  “Upupupup~!  No blackmailing on this end!  This is just the ordinary run-of-the-mill entrance ceremony!  You new students are gonna take this time to get to know each other, and to live in close community!  Forever!”

“What?!” Mike gestured around, “You–I–What do you mean, forever?  What about school?”

“This is just a shitty dream, ain’t it?” Bruce sounded comically scared, “We’re gonna wake up later and it’ll be allllll over!”

“No, no, no!  It’s the beginning of the year class field-trip, and there’s no time to waste dawdling! Call it what you want, tradition, hazing, murder, initiation–” the bear was counting on his non-existent fingers.

“Wait, did you say murder?!” Freddy took a step back.

At the clarification, all of the students stepped away from each other, and the bear.  “What sorta bullshit is this, eh?” Foxy growled, “Who be murderin’ us?”

“Of course you’d all hone in on that little detail~” Kirikuma nodded, putting his hands on his hips, “The field trip is simple!  You bastards are gonna be living here together, forever!  No need to worry about the rest of the world!  Look, we even got you your own apartment building!”

“No fucking way!” Magnolia screamed, clutching her chest, “Don’t ignore the murder part, damnit!  What’s that all about?!”

“Murder’s not simple,” Steven was playing with a butterfly knife.

“Hey, where’d–I thought–Ack!” the bear threw his arms into the air and shook his head.

This allowed for more yelling amongst the students.  “Sacre bleu, Steven, put it away,” Vincent shoved his brother in the head, “Not now.”

“How the FUCK do ya expect us to kill each other?!  How are we supposed ta live here forever?”  Chica looked around wildly, as though another student was going to answer her.

“Don’t panic, this is probably-probably just a prank, eh?  Hopes’ Peak’s kids sure do have a sense of humor, eh?” Jason laughed uneasily, “Just keep it together, and we’ll–”

“I can tell you ONE thing~!” the bear sang again, “This ain’t no prank!  This is the real deal!  You’re all gonna be living in this building, together, with nooooo way to get out!

“Well….that’s a lie!  There’s one way!” the bear gave them a thumbs up.

“Out vith it!” Alfie hollered, frustrated.

“You need to kill one of your other classmates and get away with it!” Kirikuma’s excited tone didn’t match the news he was saying.

Everyone was stunned.  What?  That’s what murder meant?  Kill another?  No, no way.  

“You’re pulling a fast one, aren’t you?” Vincent hissed, “There’s no fucking way you’d expect us to believe THAT bullshit.”

“Believe it, string bean!  Here’re the new rules for you bastards, school certified!” the bear took out a small PDA and waved it around, “You’ve all got one o’ these sitting in your rooms, it’s your ID card!  Take care of it!  It’s got all the details in it, the rules, a map of the grounds, everything!”

“First!  No leaving the school grounds!  Not like you can, anyway~!

“Second!  Night time is from 11 pm to 7 am!  You should be sleeping during this time!  A teenager needs a solid 8-7 hours to function and for their brains to develop!

“Third!  You shouldn’t sleep anywhere other than inside one of the apartments!  It’s bad for health!

“Fourth!  You can explore any open door!

“Fifth!  Destruction of any school property and violence against the principal is STRICTLY forbidden!

“Sixth! –”

“Man, why’re there so many rules?  Ugh, this is such a drag!” Terence cried, running his hand through his hair, “There’s like, no freedom!”

Kirikuma growled, “Hey!  Don’t cut me off!  Sixth!  I can make as maaaaaany rules as I want as the time goes on!  Capiché?”

“Uh, no.  Not capiché.  No,” Freddy shouted, looking around and grabbing Gideon’s arm, “Can I opt out?  I think I’m up for going back to public school instead of this noise.”

“Aww, is the wittle bear scared~?” Kirikuma laughed at him as he winced and hid behind Gideon a little, “Don’t worry, just so long as you accept your life in this building, then you’ll be alllll good!”

Vincent gave a low whistle.  “That’s not going to fly with any of us, bear,” he growled, a hand on Steven’s shoulder, “We aren’t going to be reduced to murder, we’ll find a way out.”

“Oh, willll you, string bean?” the bear laughed, jumping off of the pile of cars and landing in front of him, “I can’t wait to see!”

“Y-Yeah!” Mike shouted, stomping his foot angrily, “We’ll-We’ll show you, you stupid stuffed teddy bear!”

“Really?  I can’t–” but the bear was cut off by someone grabbing him.

“Get ze hell out ov here!” Alfie shouted, tossing him into the air….

….Just in time to see the bear explode.  Alfie paled, cowering back towards Terence.  All the students were shocked.  “Upupupup~!  I’ll let that one slide, machoman, just remember the rules~!” They whipped around and saw another Kirikuma, twirling on top of the pile of cars.

“Jesus….” Gideon whispered solemnly.

“Nope!  Just me!” the bear laughed and clapped his hands, “All of those rules are in your ID cards, and, yeah, that’s just about it!  See you tomorrow morning, bastards~!”

The bear jumped behind the pile of cars, and just like that, he was gone, leaving mass confusion and a lingering sense of dread.


	4. 1: (Ab)Normal Days — Chapter 3

Gideon was staring at the ceiling.  It wasn’t–No it can’t–This wasn’t happening.  This can’t be happening.  He was in his apartment – everyone was the first door on the right, apparently, since the rest of the floor had been blocked off by a new wall.  This was a small building.  He thought back to the meeting that all of the students had.  This wasn’t going to work.

_ “None of us will be reduced to murder simply just to leave, right?” Steven had asked the group, everyone sitting in the lobby after their loving principal’s announcements. _

_ “Of course not….unless, you know, you’re covered in weapons,” Terence muttered angrily, twirling his finger around his hair. _

_ Steven flicked his knife at him, snapping it shut.  “Take that back!” he growled. _

_ Things had escalated, Vincent had to drag his brother off and talk to him.  They returned a little later, not entirely calm but not angry, either.   _

This was not going to work, and everyone was going to die.  He closed his eyes.  He was an easy target, no special name like “Gunslinger” or “Brewster”.  He was expendable.

_ Freddy was hugging his arm tight, shaking a little.  “I’m scared, Gid,” he whispered, “I don’t…..I don’t like this…..” _

_ “No one does, wimp,” Jason rolled his eyes, “Suck it up, the sooner you accept this, the better.” _

_ “Oh, yeah, like YOU’RE so ballsy, mister everything-is-a-movie-and-fake,” Freddy rolled his eyes, only to be decked by said stuntman. _

_ Jason shook out his fist, glaring at Freddy on the ground, “Talk shit, get hit, princess.” _

Gideon rolled over.  They came to a tender agreement, but even that wasn’t very stable.  

_ “Alright, alright, well,” Magnolia had tried to calm down the group, “We can make sure that no one dies, right?  We can-We can follow the night time rule, that makes sense, right?  We’ll keep tabs on each other.” _

_ “She’s right,” Dee stood up, pushing between Jason and Freddy, “We’re all in pairs basically, right?  Just-We’ll just make sure no one dies.” _

_ “Meet back here, in the lobby, tomorrow, then we’ll start investigating.” _

Gideon sighed and rolled over onto his stomach now, burying his face in the pillow.  If he managed to survive until tomorrow, that was.  There was a key to his room on his desk, he had locked the room and barricaded the door.  No one was getting in or out.  He couldn’t trust anyone.  

As he fell into an uneasy sleep, a sense of despair filled his gut, and he drifted off.


	5. 1: (Ab)Normal Days — Chapter 4

_ BEEP _

_ BEEP _

_ BEEP _

_ BEEP _

_ Ding, dong, ding~! _

_ “Good morning, you bastards~!  Time to start another beautiful day~!” _

Gideon rolled over, groaning.  Maybe if he ignored the monitor, he’d go away.  There were computer screens in every room, and all of his windows were facing walls.  Great.  He glared up at the ceiling and sighed.  Might as well meet everyone for breakfast, if he didn’t they might think he was dead.

He shuffled out of bed, throwing on his clothes and scurrying out the door.  You can usually tell the sort of person who a student is by how early they walk in.  There’re the good students, like Gideon, Chica, Dee, Vincent, Ferrucio, and Magnolia, who arrived just on time.  The students who are a little out of it, like Bruce, Mike, Vincent, Classy, and Alfie.  And then you have the troublemakers, the ones who don’t seem to care about the dire situation that they are in and instead would rather make everyone wait in anxiety for an extra half an hour for no good reason at all, like Foxy, Freddy, Terence, Steven, and Jason.

Jason walked in last, yawning loudly and plopping in the chair next to Gideon, who let out a breath.  After only knowing him for a day, for some reason, Gideon felt a sort of kinship with the stuntman.  He watched as Jason rolled his eyes after being berated by Vincent, who had become the unofficial meeting facilitator, for being late.  “Now that EVERYONE is here and accounted for,” he shot another glare at Jason, who shrugged nonchalantly, “We can talk about what we are going to do.”

“Ain’t it obvious?  We’ve gotta look for a way out, there’s no WAY that little bear shit can keep us here for forever!” Dee slammed her hands on the table.

Magnolia nodded in support.  “Y-Yeah!  We need to look for a way to escape, that should be number one!”

Vincent nodded, “A way to get out.  Are there any other suggestions?”

Feruccio raised his hand.  “How about some of us explore the place?  I mean, we can’t stay here forever, yes, but we’re gonna need to get a grasp on our surroundings.”

“Like, someone explore this building and the areas around?” Terence raised a penciled eyebrow, “Sounds good.  Might find something.”

Vincent rubbed his hands together, thinking.  He glanced at Steven, who shrugged casually, “We could split up, most of us could go exploring while the rest test the plates and make sure there’s no exits on the first floor.  The explorers are gonna need to check out a lot of ground, so maybe everyone goes in pairs, oui?”

“Yes, that sounds good,” Vincent huffed, “Well.  Everyone is already paired off, I suppose.  Me and Steven will try to get the pile-up out of the way.”

“Can I go with you?  There’s an odd number of us, and it makes sense to have the group of three be the demolition team!” Bruce yelled, throwing his arms into the air, “And I know how to use FIRE!”

“Sure, sure,” Vincent waved his arm at the boy, who yelped in joy and hugged Steven, getting an eyeroll and a hesitant pat on the arm, “Everyone else?”

“Vell,” Alfie looked at Terence and rubbed his head, “Ve can look around ze top floors, eh?  Ze elevator goes higher than the fifteen of us there are, from the buttons inside.”

Foxy put his hand on Chica’s and raised his hook, “Aye, me and this ‘ere lass can–”

He was smacked in the arm by the cook, who laughed, “Me and Foxy’ll check out the top two!  I think there’s a kitchen up there, right?”

The pirate rubbed his arm and laughed, “Yeah, we’ll be up there, mate!  Ye can take the other few floors,” he nodded towards Alfie, who smiled in response.

Good, at least people were– “ME AND GIDEON CAN–”

“NO, ME AND–”

“NO FUCK YOU!”

“FIND YOUR OWN BROTHER!”

Gideon whipped around to see Freddy and Jason about ready to brawl.  He stood up, ready to stand between the two, when Classy spoke up, bored.  “I’ll take Jason, we’ll do a sweep of the outside, alright?”

“WHA-” Freddy socked him in the jaw.

Gideon grabbed his arm and pulled his brother back, “Fre-Freddy calm down!  It’s not-not a big deal, okay!”

“‘E was eyein’ you up, Gids, I saw him!” Freddy yanked himself out of his grip and growled, pursing his lips and glaring at the other, who was being similarly calmed down by Classy.

Vincent raised an eyebrow at the group; no one else had reacted, other than Steven and Bruce chanting “FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!” 

Gideon sighed, “Me and-and Freddy’ll look around the commons, see what-what the room layout i-is.”

Freddy sat down with a huff, at the exact same time that Jason did the same.  Gideon snickered.  Magnolia bit her lip and raised her hand, Vincent sweeping his over to her.  “Uh, me and Dee can look at the elevator itself.  It looked like it had a basement area, too.”

Dee nodded and kicked her feet up onto the table, only to have them pushed off by Mike.  “Me and Ferrucio’ll look at the roof, how about?” he grimaced, “He’s the only one I trust outta you bastards.”

“Ey, shut up!” Foxy snapped, “Are ye supposed to be any better, just because yer a security guard?!”

“I dunno, better than being a fucking pirate,” Chica held Foxy down before he could react, as Mike continued, “You’re all citizens, and this is a death game.  Even the best people turn to crime, or murder, if they’re pushed enough.”

With that, the guard stood up, threw his jacket over his shoulder, and stormed out.  “M-Mike!” Ferrucio got up, apologized to the group for leaving, and ran after him.  

Vincent let a breath out of his nose sharply and stood up as well.  “I guess that is the end of the little meeting then.  Adieu, everyone, good luck.  Meet back here for lunch?” he added the last part, looking at Chica, who jumped and saluted.

“Aye aye, Captain!” she giggled and wrapped her arm around Foxy’s, dragging him out excitedly.

Slowly, everyone filled out, leaving Gideon and Freddy still sitting at the table.  Freddy cracked his neck and smiled at his brother.  “Shall we?” he asked, standing up and holding out his hand.

Gideon sighed and took it, smirking a little.  “We-Well, we’ve gotta get going sometime.”

  
  


After a few hours of searching around the commons, Gideon looked up at the clock.  Noon, nearly lunch time.  “Hey-Hey, Freddy, let’s head back,” he offered to his brother, who was looking at the lay out of the room with extreme scrutiny.

“Alright alright…..” they clambered down the hall and into the elevator, “Let’s go over what we’re gonna say.  All the rooms seem to be the same, the first door on the right of a relatively long hallway with three other locked rooms.”

Gideon nodded, “All-All of our rooms have the same layout, then.  Yours and mine had-they had the same set up and everything.  A desk, bed, and connecting bathroom.”

“The windows looked out onto a wall.  Just a blank wall.  There was light coming from somewhere, but the wall was inches away, we couldn’t tell.”

“The hallway, too, was the same-the same rooms, the same locked doors, everything.  Our room had-had a nameplate outside of it, with our full-with our full names and a weird icon.  Yours had a microphone.”

“Yeah, and yours was a top hat, whatever that means.  We both have fuckin’ hats.”

“It’s just-just a nameplate, Freddy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

The elevator dinged and the twins stepped out, Freddy holding Gideon’s arm by the sleeve as they went to the lounge again.  So far, only Vincent, Steven, and Bruce had returned, the latter still hugging the middle’s arm tightly while he looked like he was going to cut Bruce’s arms off.  Vincent waved them over to the couch and the twins sat down, exchanging information.

Once they had done their share, Bruce piped up.  “None of the cars have explosives!” He announced, “Nor do they have batteries!  Or engines, even!  It looks like they’re just there to be a wall!”

A wall.  Vincent nodded, “We found that there was no way to move them out of the way, and none of the cars lining the street could be turned on.  The door into the opposite building was locked, too.”

“And I tried to climb the pile-up,” Steven butted in, shrugging, “I got to the top and the bear showed up and kicked me off.”

It was in that moment that Gideon noticed the bandage that was underneath Steven’s coat, masking for a shirt.  He felt eyes on it and moved to close his jacket, shrugging.  “Cracked a rib when I hit the ground, it’s no big.  At least we found the infirmary, thanks to Dee and Magnolia,” he looked to the side angrily as Bruce hugged him tighter, whining something about damage on his “puppet friend”.

They exchanged their information and other pairs filed in.  After a few minutes, they were just missing Chica and Foxy.  Terence laughed when Dee sounded worried, asking about them, “They’re probably fucking in one of the closets up there~!  It’ll do them good, too, I’ve never seen a broad with a stick farther up in her ass than that cook!”

Alfie tutted and pulled Terence’s waist tighter.   He was sitting in Alfie’s lap, the larger blacksmith nuzzling his back gently.  “Zat eez not nice to zay.  Zey are probably taking longer in the kitchen, she eez a baker, ja?” He looked around the group, “Ve can vait for zem, or ve can get ztarted and exchange information, and zey can be filled in later.”

Everyone seemed to agree with exchanging now.  Alfie nodded, he could go first.  Terence pursed his lips and looked away as Alfie rubbed his sides soothingly.  “Ve vere examining ze bottom zree extra floors, zere are twenty levels in total.  One of zem looked like a normal dorm floor but vith no nameplate, as though they expected zomeone else to be here, too.”

“But, like, the other two were weird!  There’s a nice meeting room in one of them; there’s a game room with a bunch of video games and a TV, but when we tried the TV it didn’t pick up any channels!  Just showed static unless the game controllers were plugged in,” Terence leaned into Alfie, chewing on a toothpick, eyes darting towards Steven, who was glaring back at him.

“Zere vaz a nice couch, though….and eet vaz a big room, lots of games, lots of games….and een ze meeting room, zere vas just a large desk and chairs.  Eet looks like eet vould be a nice place to congregate, eef anyzing vere ve can eat.”

Dee nodded, “We can meet there tomorrow, then, yeah?  What floor’s it?”

“Seventeen.”

“Thanks.  Want me and Maggie to go next?”

“Ja, ja, if you vould like.”

Magnolia cleared her throat, “U-Um, yeah, sure.  Me and Dee looked at the elevator.  There are twenty floors and a roof and a basement, so twenty-two stops.  We...we looked at the basement, but there wasn’t much down there.”

“Yeah,” Dee had her feet kicked up on the coffee table, cleaning her teeth with her pinky finger, “There’s an infirmary down there, and an incinerator.  The hospital place takes up most o’ the wing, though, there’re beds and everything down there.”

“Mm, good, good,” Classy was standing behind the couch, behind Alfie and Terence.

Jason looked at him and shrugged, “We can go next, if you guys’re done.”

Dee and Magnolia nodded, yeah, they were done.  “Well,” Jason stretched out his arm, “The building’s got four intersections of roads around it, and the buildings across the street don’t actually open.  If you look inside the doors, it just looks sorta barren, and dark.  No one’s in there, we tried shouting.”

Classy waved his hand, “Jason tried to break the glass door, but….”

“Okay, no way that shit’s glass.  I think I cracked my knuckle,” He showed his hand, which was beginning to swell and turn blue.

Gideon recoiled a little and bit his lip.  The rest of the group murmured apologies, but Jason just waved his hand and stated that it was nothing.  

Steven stood up and sat on the top of the couch, taking Jason’s hand firmly and locking it under his shoulder.  “Keep talking,” he stated, taking a roll of bandage out of his pocket.

“Uh, oh….” Jason looked at Classy, who rolled his eyes and continued.

“Yeah, so no way to get into them, we tried every door and window, and every intersection is blocked off by some sort of blockade.  A road block that’s like a solid wall, a car pile-up, something that we can’t get through, according to Vincent’s group.  Looks like we’re confined to this one building.”

“That’s just GREAT,” Mike rubbed his face, tired, angry, “Fucking great, I love being cornered with complete strangers.”

Ferrucio tutted and hugged his arm gently.  “It’s going to be okay, Mike,” he promised, then looked at the group, “The roof’s….interesting.  Whoever is keeping us here just wants us to stay in this building, in every way possible.”

“The sky’s fake,” Mike explained, “It looks like it’s half a mile off of the roof, actually, and it’s impossible to see past the buildings surrounding the apartments – the sky cuts it off.  We’re literally trapped.”

The group was silent for a moment, save for Jason’s hissing, trying to comprehend who would put so much effort into making a fake sky just to trap a group of teenagers.  Ferrucio broke the silence, clearing his throat.  “The, er, the roof itself is pretty generic.  Nothing is very different, but there’s no safety net or railings.  Someone could fall off.”

“Someone could jump,” Mike grunted, looking around the group, “I think I’d rather jump than be stuck with you loons.”

Vincent rolled his eyes.  “Now is not the time for your trivialities, Michael.”

“Oh, get off your damn high horse,” he waved at Vincent dismissively, “Like I’m going to take shit from a hired gun.”

“Just a hired gun?  I am wounded,” he mocked, “At least I get paid well, how much is a mall cop’s wage?”

Mike stood up, glaring.  The tension in the room was heavy on the pair.

“WHO WANTS SOME FUCKIN’ PIZZA?!” the elevator dinged and burst open as Foxy ran in, holding a large tray of steaming fresh pizza, “Me an’ the lass found a kitchen!  Stocked an’ ready, an’ she’s up there cookin’ up a storm!  Anyone hungry?”

Simultaneously, all of their stomachs growled.  They hadn’t realized that they hadn’t eaten in a solid two days.  Gratefully, untrustworthy for a few, they all took a slice off of the tray and ate it.  The warmth of melted cheese and sauce filled their mouths and eased the tension.  

Foxy led them into the elevator – another thing Gideon had been wondering, what was the maximum capacity for it? – and took them all to the twentith floor.  The doors opened, the group filed out, and Foxy ran past them as Chica twirled a filleting knife in her hand and cut up some fish.  She waved at them, “Hey, guys!  Lookie here, we’re gonna have a feast tonight!  Might as well have something good, eh?”

Vincent approached the pair and explained to them all of the other recorded rooms.  Foxy had his hand on Chica’s shoulder, protectively, and snarled when he heard about the lack of an exit.  “Someone’s tryin’ mighty hard ta keep us here,” she mumbled, wiping her messy hands off onto her apron, “But, eh, all the more reason ta lighten the day!  Just chillax, ya know?”

Foxy smiled and kissed her temple.  Then froze.  Vincent chuckled and left the two to dispute, rejoining Steven and Bruce in the corner.

Gideon watched them from afar as he arranged some of the food.  He and a few others said that they’d help Chica move the food plates down to the dining hall, where another group were setting the place up with silverware.  He felt someone throw an arm around his shoulders and rolled his eyes.  “Hey-Hey, Ja-Jason,” he acknowledged him.

“How’d you know it was me?!” was the stunned reply, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Freddy do-doesn’t throw him-himself at me-me.”

“Ah, gotcha.  Need a hand with those?” Jason gestured to the plates that Gideon was sorting.

He nodded and Jason picked a few up, balancing them on his arm like a waiter.  He flashed Gideon a smile, “Used to wait tables, good skills, good skills.  You?”

Gideon shrugged, “Never ha-had a rea-a real job.  I th-thought you were-were a stuntsman?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Jason began to walk towards the elevator and kicked the button with his boot, “Let’s get these to Terry, he’ll sort them all nice.”

Gideon picked up two trays himself and followed.  A few trips up and down, and everything had been moved down, all the food and people.  They sat and chatted, trying to make light of the conversation.  Bruce cracked a few jokes, Jason and Alfie had an arm wrestling competition, and Magnolia and Freddy did a duet.  “Who knew the florist could sing so well, eh?” Freddy nudged Gideon’s arm as he sat down and waved at Magnolia across the table, “This ain’t half bad.”

Ten p.m., a message rang out.  “One hour until night time!” Kirikuma’s voice tore through their fun, “Everyone should be in their rooms at night time!”

The group packed up – Chica and Dee declared that they could do the dishes tonight – and everyone returned to their rooms, in a slightly better mood than they had woken up in.  The ominous cloud of darkness that sat over them was lifted, none of them would kill each other.   Or so it felt.


	6. 1: FREE TIME — Foxy

Gideon woke up the next morning and cracked his back.  Well, nothing to do today…. He got out of bed and looked at his mirror.  The same sort of half-panicked, half-resigned look that he’d had for the past few days was on his face, and it was so natural that he couldn’t even notice the wide eyes without looking.  With a sigh, he changed into everyday clothes and left.

On his way back to his room from breakfast, he ran into Foxy.  “Woah, hey there, mate!” the pirate chuckled nervously, holding his hook out to shake, “Been a long few days, aye?  We’ll make it though, if we keep workin’.”

They made plans to hang out later.  Meaning Gideon sat in the lobby and listened to Foxy tell him tales of the sea.

 

“Are ye scared, mate?” Gideon blinked and looked up.

Foxy had finished telling his story and had stepped off of the coffee table where he had been standing, acting out everything.  Now he was just smiling serenely at Gideon.  “C-Come again?” 

“Are ye scared o’ this all?” Foxy waved his hook around, “The death an’ threats an’ such?”

Gideon blinked looked down.  That must have been answer enough, because Foxy patted his shoulder.  “Oi’ve been in tighter spots, lad, this ain’t gonna hurt.  It’ll….It’ll be rough, sure, but ya know it won’t help if ye keep yer head down and be sad about it, aye?”

“What do you-do you mean?” Gideon raised an eyebrow, uncertain.

“Well, Oi mean that you’ve gotta keep yer head up!  They WANT ye to feel helpless, aye?  So don’t give it to ‘em!” Foxy threw his hands into the air and made a fist, “Make sure yer ready to fight, always, and don’t give in!  Once, Oi fought me way outta a group o’ ten men!  With one sword!”

One sword?

“Oi’m a pirate, see, so Oi know how ta use a sword, lad.  It ain’t that hard, actually, ye just sorta,” he made a sweeping gesture, “Swing it.”

“O-Oh….” Gideon scratched the back of his head, “Can you….when we’re all out of here, I-I mea-mean….”

“Teach ya?” Gideon looked at Foxy.

Who was beaming at him, hook in his hand excitedly, “Of course Oi can, laddy!  Always a pleasure to teach a man ‘ow ta fight!  The best feeling in the world, to be able to cover yer hide with all yer might!”

Gideon chuckled weakly.  “Th-Thanks, Foxy.”

“No problem, Gideon!  Now,” he looked up at the display monitor, which showed the time, “Oi’ve gotta meet Chica!  She promised ta teach me ‘ow ta make lemonade!”

Before Gideon could ask about the lemonade, Foxy had already left for the elevator, with a solid “See ye again soon, lad!”


	7. 1: FREE TIME — Chica

What to do, what to do, what to do.  Gideon was walking along the halls of the kitchen, looking through what he could eat for lunch, when he ran into the cook herself.  Chica chirped happily and waved him over.  

“Howdy, Goldie!” she giggled, “Ya wanna have some food?”

Gideon learned how to make a cream puff and managed to explode a small pack of flour onto himself.

 

Chica laughed kind-heartedly as she cleaned Gideon off.  “Sorry, Gids!  I didn’t think it’d be that easy ta spill!”

“I-It’s no wo-no worries, Chica….sa-say, you-you’re a baker, right?”

“Yep!” she put her hands on her hips, all proud like, “Super High School Level Baker, that’s me!  But I can cook a whooooole lot of things!  I help run my parents’ restaurant bakery, so I learned everything early.”

She put the dirty towel into a washing machine – why the laundry was in the kitchen, no one knew, but it made sense to have the entire water main in one room – and wiped her hands on her apron.  “I love cooking anything!  Once ma and pa had to get ‘real jobs,’ though, I taught myself how to cook an’ everything, and then I started running the shop!”

Gideon nodded along, listening.  “Sometimes it’d get lonely, though, ya know?  And busy,” Chica began to scrub off dishes, “I mean, it’s hard ta run an entire restaurant on your own, and I wasn’t old enough to hire people, let alone be someone’s boss, or even get paid.  All the money went to my parents and charities a lot.”

“Ch-Charities?”

“Yep!  Most of the time money would go somewhere where people needed it, ‘cause we didn’t need the extra, ya know?  It was a good thing to do.”

“Mm,” Gideon nodded, “Th-That’s really no-noble.”

Chica opened her mouth to respond. 

There was a loud yell from the floor below.  The two exchanged a look – it sounded like someone was in trouble.  Chica picked her skirt up and bolted to the elevator, followed by Gideon, and they quickly went down a level.

The door opened.

Chica squeaked and hid into Gideon’s side as Mike was thrown at the wall directly next to the elevator.  “And stay down, ya fuckin’ douchebag!” Jason growled at him as Steven tried to pull his arm backwards.

“Calm down,” Steven hissed angrily and gave Jason’s arm a hard yank, turning him around, “Don’t start shit, mon ami, calm down.”

Jason hissed angrily, turning his back around as Chica moved forwards to help Mike.  The elevator doors began to close, so Gideon jumped out and let it go down.  Slowly, the elevator began to bring other people up, people who had heard the fight.  He helped Steven sit Jason down, who looked like he had taken another punch to the jaw, as Chica helped Mike into a chair and checked his neck.

“Fucker was being suspicious,” Jason grunted, staring angrily at the wall.

Steven rolled his eyes and checked his jaw for dislocation, “He was suspicious of me.”

“He was yelling at you!”

“He had every right.”

Gideon pursed his lips and grabbed a wet towel, using some water from a cup and a napkin, and pressed it to the side of Jason’s jaw.  He hissed as it cooled the swelling down.  The verdict from Steven was no permanent injury, but there was a bruise.  A big one.  That, coupled with his swollen knuckles, and Jason was not in a position to be fighting.  So Steven told him so, with a tap to the nose and stern glare.

On the other side, Chica was checking Mike’s neck as he tried to push her off.  “I’m fine, damnit, I don’t need you looking me over–” he yelped when she turned his head gently.

“Mhm, yeah ya are,” she raised an eyebrow, “Your neck ain’t broken, but ya might have a concussion.  That ain’t good.  Want me to get ya some water?”

Ferrucio, who had arrived with Freddy and Dee, poured him a glass.  “You can’t get in fights so much, Mike, it’s not good for the atmosphere,” he worriedly handed him the water and put a hand on his shoulder.

Unlike Chica, Mike did not brush Ferrucio off.  He just took a few gulps of the water and sat up straighter.  “Yeah, yeah, but THAT little rodent’s keeping arms on himself like this ain’t some sort of life-or-death-kill-everyone game,” he pointed a finger at Steven, who turned around and scowled.

“If it will make you all feel better,” he glanced around at the nervous faces, “I can leave them in my room.”

“Yeah, and who’s gonna trust that?!  You’re just a time bomb WAITING to go off!” Mike snapped back at him, trying to get out of his chair.

Chica and Ferrucio held him down as Steven sighed and looked down.  “I’m not the one who got in a fight,” he mumbled, letting go of Jason’s cheek, “I can just–”

The elevator dinged again.  “And  _ what _ is going on in here?” Vincent scowled at everyone, eyes resting on Steven for explanation.

He pulled his younger brother aside and he gave him a rundown of the situation as Alfie and Terence, who had also been in the elevator, checked over Mike.  No bad damage, other than the concussion, and a bruise on his back from being hit.  Chica looked Mike over once more, “He’s pretty banged up though.  Can you boys help him to his–”

“I’ve GOT.  IT,” Mike growled at her again, yanking his arm out of her grip and limping to the elevator, “I don’t trust any of you fuckers, especially when there’s a life on the line.”

He slammed the elevator button and climbed in, closing the door quickly.  That didn’t stop Ferrucio from sliding in and gently touching his shoulder, to comfort him.  The doors closed and dinged, signifying that it had left the floor.

The group awkwardly shifted around, slowly dwindling into Terence trying to convince Chica that she should really “use make-up to cover those blemishes, sweetcheeks, the sweat from the oven’s making wrinkles,” Jason being pestered by a worried Steven, and Vincent, Alfie, and Gideon talking about what to do next.

“Zees eez not good for ze group,” Alfie looked at Jason’s disgruntled face, “Eef ve cannot get along, who knows vhen ze first murder vill occur.”

Gideon stiffened and Vincent smacked Alfie’s shoulder gently.  “No one is going to die.  Not if we can hold our peace,” he nodded to the two of them, “We need to make sure things stay settle, right?”

Alfie nodded, and Gideon felt himself nod too.  Hard not to when the Frenchman was glaring holes into his skull.  “Good, then it is settled,” he checked the clock on the wall, “Ah, Chica?”

“Eyep?” she turned around, evidently annoyed.

Terence grabbed her cheek and turned her back around, still scrunitizing her face.  She slapped his hand away and shot him a death glare before turning back towards Vincent, “Yep, what’s up, boss man?”

“Can you have dinner ready soon?”

“Honey, I can cook a platter for ten in fifteen minutes.”

“Good, you will have an hour.”

Chica fist pumped, hissed “Awwww yeahhhh,” and hit the elevator call button.  Gideon, looking amongst the group, decided that it would be best to leave them to their devices and help Chica cook, so he joined her.

“Well,” she chuckled when the doors closed, “THAT sure was fun.”

Gideon really wanted to know what her definition of “fun” was.


	8. 1: FREE TIME — Steven

Gideon sat up in bed and scratched his head.  New day, new day.  He left his room.

Walked down the way.

And ran into Steven.

Literally.

The smaller man bounced right off of Gideon’s chest and onto his butt, scratching his head.  Gideon froze and immediately knelt down to see if he was alright.  “A-Are you al-you al-alri-alright?” Gideon gently touched his head and Steven waved his hand away, snickering.

“Don’t worry about me, mon ami!” he jumped up and laughed, looking Gideon over, “Ah, gold’s your color, eh?  How about Goldie Locks?”

“N-No, I thi-think I’m-”

“Goldie Locks it is!  You’re just right!  Want to come with me, I was just on my way to get some medical tape from the infirmary.”

Gideon then spent the next few minutes going to the infirmary and watching Steven name every type of bandage.

 

Steven was wrapping his midsection again, Gideon watching him with a faint curiosity.  He finally decided to speak up.  

“Do-Doesn’t i-i-it hurt?”

“Hm?” Steven glanced up, confused, “Does what hurt?”

Gideon pointed to his chest.  Steven looked down at the bandage and waved his hand, laughing.  “This?  This is NOTHING, Goldie Locks, don’t worry!” he patted the bandage, “No, this isn’t anything to be worried about.  Do you want to see a real wound?”

Before Gideon could answer, Steven had taken his jacket off.  On his shoulder was a large scar, a stab wound.  Steven traced the edges gently and shrugged, smiling at Gideon.  “When you wanna be a knife thrower in the circus,” Steven began his tale, slipping his jacket back on, “You don’t start by throwing knives.  You start on the wheel.”

The wheel.  “I do-don’t fo-fo-follow.”

“You know!  The wheel,” Steven made a spinning gesture, “They put you on the wheel and blind fold the knife thrower and throw knives and they put bets on how many times the person gets hit, where, yada yada.

“And that used to be my job, right, because they thought I was too small to do anything else,” Steven shrugged nonchalantly.

Gideon must have looked scared, because Steven patted his cheek and laughed.  “It didn’t hurt  _ too _ bad, Goldie Locks, don’t worry.  Besides, made me start practicing!  And one day, during a show, I didn’t get on the wheel.  And I said I’d show him how it’s done.”

“S-So….wh-what’d you….d-d-do?” Gideon stared at him with wide eyes, “Di-Did you ki-ki-you ki–”

Steven blinked at him and laughed, cutting him off.  He regained himself, putting a hand on Gideon’s knee to stop himself from falling off the cot.  After a few moments of covering his mouth with his hand, he sat up.  “No, no, I didn’t kill him,” he winked, “I should have, though, mon ‘or.”

“S-So what’d you do?”

“Gave him a haircut.  Five knives,” Steven opened his jacket, “All around his head.  Didn’t cut him once.  That was my resumé.”

Inside the jacket were empty pockets, but it was evident what was supposed to be in them.  Sheaths, ten on each side, and a large pouch.  Steven opened the pouch and pulled a small butterfly knife out, flicking it around.  “I promised that I’d leave them in my room, but I can’t leave my papillion, she makes me calmer,” he showed Gideon the multicolored sheen, “Plus she’s harmless, the deepest cut she can make is two inches.”

Gideon nodded, lips pressed into a line so he wouldn’t scream.  This was.  Sort of terrifying.  Steven put his jacket back on normally and smiled.  “You can’t be this good with knives without getting stabbed a few times, eh?  It’s alright.”

He looked around and hopped off the bed.  “Well, thanks for staying with me!  I’m gonna go find mon frére!”

Steven hopped away, leaving Gideon with his heart racing.  Why his ears felt hot, he couldn’t really place.


	9. 1: FREE TIME — Jason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun thing to do: comment saying who you think is who, which character represent which in the FNaF universe. It shouldn't be that hard.  
> Side note: am I doing them justice? :^)

Gideon didn’t have much to do.  I mean, what IS there to do when you’re locked in an apartment complex with the threat of murder around every corner?

Yeah, that’s right.  Not much.  He rode the elevator to the game room and decided he’d try to relax by playing some low-level adventure games when, lo and behold, guess who was already using the console.

“GET FUCKED, BOWSER, SHE’S MINE,” Jason screamed at the television screen as Mario overtook the castle.

Gideon almost laughed, he looked like such a child; his legs were crossed on the couch, his shoulders hunched over the tiny controller in his hands.  His jacket was sitting on the couch next to him and he had an unlit cigarette in his mouth, merely chewing on it.  Gideon must have made some sort of noise because Jason turned around, nodding at him.  “What’s up, Gids?  Wanna play?”

Gideon found himself being Jason’s player two in a few rounds of Super Mario Galaxy.

 

Jason put the controller down and exhaled happily, content with his video gaming.  Gideon put his controller down a little less calmly.  He looked over Jason curiously, his brow furrowing in confusion and what felt like….anger.  “A-Aren’t you the lea-the least bi-bit sca-scared?” he asked.

“No,” Jason closed his eyes, “For what?  Scared of death?  I ain’t been scared of dying since I was five, kiddo.”

“Rea-Really?”

“Sure!  Doing the shit I do, no matter how many safety harnesses or pads, is dangerous as fuck.  Lots of people get hurt, so I ain’t afraid of it.”

Gideon squinted.  “You-You aren’t?”

“Nope,” Jason put the unlit cigarette away, finally, after chewing it half to oblivion, “You know, I wanted to be an actor first, before all this stuntman stuff.  I thought it’d be fun to get the girls.”

“Li-Like an ac-action sta-star?”

“Yeah, something like that!  It’d be cool to swoop in and get the ladies and dudes, wouldn’t it?”

Gideon found himself nodding in agreement, and then caught himself.  “Du-Dudes?”

“Mhm!” Jason nodded, “Guys and gals, like a swing.  Both are pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.  Which way do you swing?”

The room suddenly got fifty degrees warmer.  Gideon scratched the back of his neck, looking away.  “I-I’m not su-su-sure we’re at-we’re at a level of friendship wh-where we can as-ask-”

“You ever sucked a dick?”

“JASON.”

“What?!  It’s a valid question,” Jason laughed, slapping Gideon’s back, “But I get it if you don’t wanna answer, it is kind of personal.”

Gideon nodded, rubbing his cheeks.  When did he start blushing?  This was making him so uncomfortable, gosh darn, he didn’t want to think about his sexuality in a time like this.

But the question still stood.

“Ha-Have you?”

Jason looked at him, smirking.  Gideon paled.  “You-You did?”

“Nah,” Jason nudged him, cackling, “But I wanna!  Have you SEEN the Greys?!”

This was where Gideon felt himself stand up, pat Jason’s back sympathetically, and walk back to the hallway.  He could hear Jason laughing behind him; he was so inexperienced in the world of famous people and the world of sex.  Honestly, he could wait on the later, there were more pressing matters.  At least he understood Jason a bit more, now.


	10. 1: (Ab)Normal Days

Gideon looked up at the knock.  Someone was at the door.  He threw on some pants and answered, and blushed a little.

Jason waved at him, leaning on the doorframe.  “Mornin’, bear cub,” he winked, “Wanna be my plus one to a party?”

“Plus….o-one?” Gideon raised an eyebrow, “To….to wh-where?”

“I’m goin’ up to hang with Mike, dude wants to apologize for being a dick.  Says he already said sorry to Steven,” Jason took a piece of paper out of his pocket and showed Gideon, “Wants to chill and play video games and said I can bring someone up with me.”

Gideon reread the note.  “Meet me in the game room, sorry for breaking your face.” A time was listed, too, along with the offer to bring someone else along.  He looked up at Jason’s grin, squinting his eyes.  “A-Are you su-sure about this?  And yo-you wan-want to bring me?  What ab-about St-Ste-Steven?”

  
“I don’t want him around that asshole any more than he’s got to be,” Jason stated, crossing his arms, “And you can’t hide in your room forever.”

  
“Ye-Yes I can-can.”

Jason shrugged.  “If you die, no one’s going to find your body.’

Gideon bit his lip.  “Th-That’s not a lo-lo-loss.”

“Gideon.”

“Ja-Jason.”

Jason groaned, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.  “Fine, but I’m not the one who’s gonna be comforting Freddy when he’s sobbing over your body~.”

Gideon scowled.  That was a low blow, and they both knew it.  “Fi-Fine, I’-I’ll go.”

“Sweet,” he got a cheeky grin in response, and they were off.  Jason drummed his fingers on the elevator, humming to the music, as Gideon looked around at the wooden walls.  It was a pretty nice elevator.  The pair shot the shit for the few moments they had, Jason being interested in his relationship with Freddy and Gideon being interested in how many famous people he’d met.  He was just in the middle of asking if he’d ever doubled for Leonardo DiCaprio when the doors opened and they quickly went to the game room.

It looked like the party had already passed.  A few empty beer bottles were strewn on the ground, one half-empty in Mike’s hand as he used one hand to go through the Wii menu.  Classy had one hanging off his hand, seemingly asleep on one of the chairs.  Mike looked up and smiled at them, waving the controller as the loud start-up music for Brawl played, filling their eardrums.  “‘Sup,” that was pretty calm of him, at least, “We were playin’ a drinkin’ game of Brawl, take a shot every time you die.”

Jason slid onto the couch, next to Mike, snickering.  He grabbed a secondary controller.  “You got any more?”

His smile widened when Mike produced a six-pack of home-brewed beer.  “Dee’s been busy,” he chimed, finishing the bottle in his hands.

Gideon felt himself slide into the other open armchair and watched the two guys play, taking swigs of beer every time either of them died.  They must have been there for a long time; they were on their third match when there was a knock on the door.  More empty bottles were on the ground, and both Gideon and Jason felt woozier than when they entered.

Dee poked her head into the room.  Her mouth-guard was pulled down and she bit her lip, looking at the boys.  “The brew was that good?” she asked, entering quickly and shutting off the television.

Jason jumped to his feet, angry.  “What th’ hell, Dee, I was about to beat this twat into oblivion!”

“Like HELL you were, ya Brit,” Mike jumped up, too, scowling at Jason.

They growled at each other and Gideon stood up, too, wobbling between them.  He smiled sympathetically at Dee, who did not return the sentiment.  Her hands were on her hips as she watched the men, worriedly.  “A weird dingin’ sound came over the loudspeakers earlier, an’ th’ bear came on sayin’ that a body’d been discovered.  We’ve been searchin’ all aroun’ for one.”

The three drunk men immediately sobered, looking around.  A dead body.  The first dead body?

“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Mike asked, watching Dee carefully.

Dee nodded.  “We regrouped at the lobby, but only Alfie, Terence, Vince, Chica, Foxy, and I showed up.  We’ve been lookin’ for all th’ others an’ we’re meetin’ at the bottom in an hour.  Do ya’ll wanna help look?  Best stay in groups if someone’s been killed.”

Gideon bit his lip, nodding.  He glanced at Jason, who’s face had lowered into a stony frown.  Mike’s fingers were twitching and he turned to look at Classy, who was still passed out drunk.  “I’ll stay with him, make sure he knows what’s up.  He had a whole pack before he was knocked out,” Mike bit his thumb nervously, “Send Ferrucio up, if you find him, will you?”

Dee nodded.  “Done.  C’mon, boys.”

Jason and Gideon followed Dee out and across the hall, into the meeting room, where they surprisingly found Ferrucio and Bruce discussing how to engineer the perfect hot air balloon.  They glanced up, seemingly unfazed about the murder that had occurred.  “I thought that was just a test of the emergency broadcast system!” Bruce shouted, “We have those all the time aroun’ the North!  Tornadoes and all that jazz!”

“You balloon in tornadoes?”

“Nah, only tornado weather!”

No one questioned him afterward.  Gideon pulled Ferrucio aside and asked him politely to go be with Mike.  “We-We’re worrie-ried that he might ge-get ambushed by the ki-killer,” he explained.

Ferrucio nodded, jerkily, and bounded across the hall.  They traveled up the elevator, searching the kitchen and dining room.  After finding nothing, however, they decided that maybe waiting for the regroup at the lobby would be the best.  The waiting game was never very fun, though.

Gideon and Jason were sitting next to each other, whispering quietly, and Dee was pacing when the first group arrived.  Alfie and Terence, who had brought Magnolia downstairs.  Dee hugged her friend tightly, kissing her cheek, and spoke in hushed voices as the next few groups appeared.  Bruce had found Vincent, who had found Steven sulking in his room.  Chica and Foxy had found Freddy in the pantry, the room that the kitchen group didn’t check, scouring for chips.

“It’s been DAYS since I had some potato chips, damnit, those’re my favorite,” he fell into the couch seat, grumbling.

Gideon did a quick head count.  “No on-no one’s missing,” he whispered to Jason.

Jason only shrugged.  “Maybe one of the other three,” he stated, leaning back.

Again, Gideon did a headcount, trying to think of the possibilities.  There was only one in his mind, quickly confirmed by Mike and Ferrucio bursting through the next elevator.  

“Classy doesn’t have a pulse.”

Mike basically screamed it, angry.  Ferrucio put a hand on his shoulder, calming him, and hugged Mike when he leaned backward, breathless.  Across the room, everyone’s faces morphed into panic and fear.  Someone in this room was a murderer.  Someone in this room had murdered Clarence Bonneth.


	11. 1: AbNormal Days  - Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT  
> SHOUT OUT TO Fyncival FOR NOTICING THIS  
> CLASSY'S NAME CHANGES FROM CHAPTER ONE TO CHAPTER TEN AND NOW HAS BEEN FIXED TO BE CLARENCE BONNETH THE WHOLE WAY THROUGH HOPEFULLY  
> that is all thank u <3

Gideon was staring at the dead body.  He was just….laying there, across the couch, half slanted against the pillows like Mike had left him when they all jumped up.  It was almost surreal.  He couldn’t be dead, could he?  Vincent and Alfred had both checked, he had no pulse.  Chica was hugging Terence close — they’d been brothers, afterall — and was comforting him.  Everyone had piled into the game room or the hallway outside, wondering what was next.  Kirikuma had said that there would be a trial, that they would have to figure out who was the murderer, but they didn’t really know the specifics to the trials.  Would they blindly accuse?  

He was thinking too far ahead now.  Freddy’s hand came down on his shoulder and rubbed reassuringly.    
“He-He can’t be-can’t-He’s not-not dead,” Gideon whispered, “He-It’s-It’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry, Gids, but that’s that.  He’s dead,” Freddy bit his lip, looking over Mike’s body.

He really did look like he was sleeping, mouth half ajar with a tad of drool coming from the inside.  His arm was limp over the top of the couch, the other hanging off of the edge.  The beer bottle had been removed, proving that he couldn’t grip with his hands, which were cold as ice.  He’d been dead for a few hours.

Gideon, Jason, and Mike had been sitting in that room with a dead body.  

The thought wouldn’t leave his mind.  He rested his head on Freddy’s shoulder and let him hug him.

The screen fuzzed, and Kirikuma’s image came onto the screen.  The speakers were filled with his obnoxious laughter.

“Alright, you bastards, all out to the front yard!  You all wanna know the rules to the lil’ game we’re playing, right?” he laughed.

Chica yelped as Terence tore out of her grip, grabbing one of the half-full beer bottles and chucking it at the tv.  It shattered, not breaking the monitor at all but leaving the tiniest of scratches in the glass screen.

“TH-THAT’S MY BROTHER’S FU-FUCKING LIFE, YOU-YOU-YOU-” he screamed, make up running down his face from the non-stop sobbing.

Alfie grabbed him, holding him tight and soothing his anger into whispers and hiccups.  Chica motioned an apology and he waved her off, picking Terence up and looking at the group in the room.  Jason was standing by the door, eyes closed and leaning against the wall as Steven massaged his back and whispered quiet words of comfort in French to him.  Vincent was writing down the information he’d discovered into a tiny notebook, Gideon and Freddy standing next to him.  Mike and Ferrucio were off in the other corner, Mike buried in Ferrucio’s arms just as Terence had been in Chica’s.  Everyone else had elected to stay in the hall.

Someone was a killer.

“Ja, I think ve should go down to the yard.”

It was in unanimous agreement.

* * *

 

The strip of road that the group had originally met Kirikuma at had been dubbed the “yard”, even though there was maybe a ten feet by ten feet square of grass and a dead shrub in the front, near the door.  Gideon couldn’t make out what it had been before it died.  A bush?  It would make sense, but it was so small now.  What sort of bush?

“Alright!” the bear’s squeaky voice pierced his thoughts, and he looked up to the golden bear, sitting on a pile of cars, “We’re all getting amped up for our first big cla~aa~ass tria~aa~al!”

“You shouldn’t sing it like that,” Alfie snapped, still hugging Terence close.

The bear waved his hand.  “Oh, piss off, toy box, lemme have my fun!  Afterall, the class trial’s my FAVORITE part of dying!”

“You’ve mentioned this trial so many times, yet you have not explained it,” Vincent yelled, arms crossed.

“Glad you asked, string bean!  The class trial will take place in the trial room — I think you kids found it snooping around, you bad, bad kids, I’m going to have to move it again!” 

“The meeting room?” Magnolia asked uncertainly.

“Mhhhhhm~!” Kirikuma hummed, “It won’t look or be the same as when you damn kids saw it, though!  It’ll have stands, and fire, and death!”  
“Figures,” Mike growled, rubbing his mouth angrily.

The bear did a spin and bowed.  “Thought you guys’d like a surprise~!”

“Oh, just shut up!” Ferrucio was yelling now, what a world, “Just-Just tell us what the rules are!”  
“Well, fine!” the bear plopped down, “You all will have an open debate where you can present your points and arguments and evidence to each other and talk about who you think the murderer is.  Once you get to who you think the murderer is, there will be a vote and the majority wins!  Capishe?”  
“No.  Not capishe,” Jason waved his hands, “Yoohoo.  What if we’re wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Yeah, like, what if we vote the wrong person!”  
“Well, blondie, if you vote the wrong person, then the REAL murderer gets out free.  I said that earlier, is your blonde hair getting in your blonde ears?”  
Jason scowled and crossed his arms.  Steven patted his arm and whispered something to him before looking up at Kirikuma and yelling himself.  “But what happens to the rest of us?” 

Kirikuma giggled, that sickening “Upupupupu~.”  “Well, if you all get it wro~oo~ong,” he paused, “You die.”  
Silence.

Then.

“What the FUCK do you-”  
“-Must be a fucking joke-”  
“-You can’t just-”  
“-Kill-”

“-Us!”

“ACTUALLY!” Kirikuma’s voice boomed over all of theirs, “I can!  I can actually kill you!  It’s really easy!”

“But,” Dee shouted first, “But if we get it right-”  
“-Then the real murderer’s executed, simple as that!” Kirikuma clapped his hands.

“Executed?” Mike asked, comforting Ferrucio, who’d gotten jumpier after all of the yelling.

“Yeppers!  Executed!  They could get their head chopped off, they could be mauled to death, they could be set on fire, a load of things!” 

The group was quiet, looking at each other.  Terence rubbed his arms, leaning more into Alfie’s side.  “They deserve it,” he hissed.

Kirikuma must have had good ears, because he piped up, “That’s the spirit!”

Terence ducked his head into Alfie’s chest, who hugged him tighter.  The rest of the group seemed content with the information so far.

“So,” Kirikuma declared, “On your ID cards is a lil’ tab called ‘Monokuma file!’  In that tab, you’ll find all the autopsy information about mister Classius!  You’re all gonna have one hour to accumulate as much information as you can, interview each other, look at the crime scene, yada yada.  Then, I’ll ring the bell, and you all gotta get in the elevator, capishe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce shouted, after a long pause.  

No one wanted to talk to him anymore

“Great!  Ta-ta~!”

The bear disappeared back behind the pile of cars, leaving nothing but silence behind him.  

The kids couldn’t process what they’d heard.  They’d have to judge their peers, even send one of them to their deaths.

Bitterly, some recalled that the killer didn’t have a problem doing that themselves.  Others remorsefully realized that they would have that blood on their hands.  They filed into the apartment building again, settling into the lobby and looking at each other.  

Vincent broke the silence.


	12. 1: AbNormal Days  - Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H aha ha a hhh im so sorry this is so far from when the actual story went up, to anyone who actually is reading this thing. college is absolutely murdering me and any creating writing skills i have but its ok u kno its ok fuck it u p and y'all have a good day <3

“One hour,” Vincent said.

Everyone murmured in agreement.  He rubbed his gloved hands together.

“We can’t waste it sitting around,” he stood up, “Jason, Alfie.  You are our brawniest, you will protect the crime scene.  If anyone tampers with it….”

“We crush them?” Jason suggested.

Vincent tutted.  “You restrain them and report them to the group.  Understand?”

Alfie nodded and nudged Jason’s shoulder to get him to nod, too.  They made their way to the elevator.

Bruce put up a hand.  “Oi, what’s that mean for the rest of us?  I don’t wanna sit around while the rest of everyone else decides who the killer is, I like being an educated voter.”

Vincent nodded, and waved his hand at the group.  “It makes sense that we will all conduct investigations.  I, for one, do not want to share any information with the killer.”

He strode off without another word.  Steven looked up and followed after him, holding his hand as they climbed into the elevator with Jason and Alfie.  The rest of the group looked wearily amongst themselves.

Gideon could feel the blood pounding in his ears.  Someone here was a killer.  A murderer.  Sure, he didn’t trust everyone yet, but they all seemed like good  _ people. _  He’d never pin one as….

He could feel Freddy holding his arm tight.  His brother was worried, scared even.  Maybe they should get going on their own investigation, before everyone else.  As big as Freddy talked, he wasn’t really a fighter, and if it came down to it he didn’t want to risk putting them in a situation that might change that. 

“Ho-Hold the elevator!” Gideon called, pushing past Chica and Foxy and dragging his brother in.  

The doors closed behind Freddy, and the group of six rode it up in a tense silence.  Vincent’s hands were on Steven’s shoulders, almost protective, and Alfie and Jason were whispering between each other.  Freddy turned to Gideon — turned as much as he could in the tight space — and said, “So, the plan’s to do our own little investigation?  You were with him, right, do you think you saw anything strange?”

Gideon shook his head, recounting the scene.  Classy, dead.  Not dead, no.  “Unconscious” he was told.  Drunk.  Empty beer bottles across the ground, the buzz of the videogame….nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  Maybe he was already dead?  There was no way anyone in the room killed him, right then.  

To be safe, Gideon reminded himself to ask Jason about it, but he told Freddy, “No, no-nothing that I no-that-that I noticed.  He cou-could have been dea-dead before I go-before Ja-Jason and I go-got there-”

“THAT’S ME!” Jason exclaimed, looking around at everyone else, “I’m Jason, who’s talking shit?”

Gideon jumped at the shout and immediately folded into Freddy, trembling.  Freddy groaned, hugging him tight, and shot Jason a glare.  “We’re going over what Gideon knows so far.  And you were in the room with him and Mike and a dead body, so that’s one thing.”

“Are you suggesting something, you star-spangled pussy?” Jason glared at him, “I didn’t kill nobody.”

“Double negatives,” Steven muttered, looking to the side.

Jason turned to him now, face still contorted in anger, but before he could form a response, Steven continued to talk.  “Responding with anger is a sure-fired way for others to think that you are guilty.  How did you not kill him?”

He held Jason’s angry glare with his own stoic frown, determined.  Vincent’s hands had tightened on Steven’s shoulders, ready to fight if Jason took a swing, but he needn’t worry.  After a few seconds, Jason sighed, the tenseness from his stance and glare dropping.  “Sorry, little mouse,” he muttered, rubbing his face, “Been….Been a long day.  I think I’m still drunk.”

“It is okay.  Can you tell us what you saw?”

Jason nodded, leaning back on the wall.  The elevator sure was slow, but there were a lot of floors.  “I was just playing video games the whole time.  Mike invited me, and I asked Gids there to tag along.  We had a couple bottles of Dee’s stuff, it’s real strong, real good too, and shot the shit.  Nothing out of the ordinary from what I could see.”

“Nothing?  Nothing at all?”

“Well, I mean, Classy was already dead drunk.  He….alright, that was bad wording,” Jason put up his hands when Freddy grimaced, offended by the “dead” part, “He was unconscious and passed out on a chair, beer bottles all over him.  Like, three on top of him, one in his hand or something.  He was already dead by the time we got there, if he was dead at all.”

Vincent nodded along, but then stopped.  “But the alarm went off after you arrived to the room.”  
“Did it?  Gideon and I didn’t hear no alarm, right?”

Gideon felt himself nod and respond, “Y-Yeah, we didn’t hea-hear anything.”

“Hm.”

Vincent seemed to lose interest after that, but Gideon hadn’t.  “An-an alarm we-went off?”

“Oui.  Throughout the building, on all the TV’s.  But the small one in the lobby — not the big one — did not.  It maybe is not connected?” Vincent responded with a tiny shrug, “But around the time that you say you have entered the room, all of the TV screens turned off and Kirikuma appeared and alerted us of the dead body.”

Jason nodded, nudging Gideon gently, who nodded and looked back at Vincent.  “And the-the rest of-of you were….?”

“We were looking for you, Gideon, Classy, and Mike,” Alfie said, calmly, beefy arms crossed, “We knew that not all of you had to have been killed, Kirikuma said that only one person died.  Maybe look at the file?”

Ah, right, the Kirikuma file.  Almost simultaneously, like the author had forgotten that this was even a thing, all of the characters in the elevator checked their PDAs for the Kirikuma file.  Clarence Bonneth, male.  Death by consumption of lethal poison.  A single bruise on his wrist was the only other 

That was reassuring.  Gideon nodded, and Jason nodded them off, waving and giving them all finger guns as the elevator door opened.  The six disembarked and Jason and Alfie led the way to the murder scene.  They held the door open for everyone else.

Classy’s body was still there, a beer bottle balanced on his head, some strewn on his chest, one in his hand.  Freddy took the bottle off of his head, a little aggravated, and put it down.  Gideon rubbed his mouth.

“....Must be-be why he didn’t notice,” he whispered.

Freddy lifted a bottle and sniffed it, frowning a little.  “Must be a different brew,” he whispered, “It’s kinda strong.”

He handed the bottle to Gideon, who sniffed it, too.  It smelt the same as it had during the night.  Maybe Freddy was just a light weight….Oh, right.  Their entire family was full of light weights.  Gideon pocketed the empty bottle and took the one from Classy’s hand — presumably, the one he had been drinking.  He lifted it to his own nose and sniffed it.

That was not the same scent.  Gideon frowned, sniffing it again.  There was a sort of...almost sterile smell to the beer?  As though it was a soap.  He held it out for Freddy to smell.  “It-It smells….weird.”

Freddy sniffed it, then sighed.  “This must be what poisoned him,” he whispered, pocketing the bottle as well.

“We-We’ll ask Dee ab-about it la-la-later.”

“Agreed.”

Gideon nodded and patted down Classy’s pockets, checking if anything else was in them.  “What’re you gonna do, rob the dead man?” Freddy asked.

“I-I-I’m che-checking hi-his pockets fo-fo-fo-” ahah. 

Gideon pulled out a crumpled up note, on the same stationary his original note from Mike was on, too.  He opened it up.

_ “Hey, Classy, this is Mike.  I’m sorry about the arguments, and I don’t want this shit sitting in the air anymore.  Meet me in the game room?….” _

It was similar to the one Jason’d received, right?  Gideon looked up, glancing at the door towards their two bodyguards, who seemed to be standing straight, looking at the other, then standing straighter, like a body guard competition.  Gideon got up and nudged Jason’s arm, making him jump and turn around.

He grinned that Cheshire grin at him.  “What’s up, bear cub?” 

“Ca-Can I see the-the no-note fro-from Mi-Mike?” Gideon asked, holding up the note from Classy’s pocket, “I-I wanna ma-make sure they’re the-the-si-similar.”  
Jason nodded and fished around in his pocket, producing the note easily.  Gideon took it and looked at them both. 

Yep.  Same handwriting, same stationary.  Perfect match.  He thanked Jason and folded both notes neatly together, putting them in his pocket.  That was alright, at least.  

Hadn’t Mike mentioned that Steven received a note as well?  Gideon could have sworn he did.  Or, maybe Jason told him.  Jason told him Mike told him?  Something along those lines.  

Vincent and Steven were inspecting the television.  He nudged Steven’s shoulder and waved awkwardly as he turned.  His skin was pale as a sheet, and somehow perfectly kept.  Like porcelain.  Gideon almost wanted to touch his cheek, see if it really was flesh.

What the fuck.

Jason would kill him before he had the chance, and one person was already dead.  “Hey, u-um, did you ge-get an apology note from Mi-Mike ea-earlier?  About mee-meeting up?”

Steven, unexpectedly, laughed.  He held his chest, laughing a tinkling laugh.  Then he snorted, leaning forward and getting real into this laughing.  “Oh, oh, merdé, that is hilarious!  Him?  Apologizing to me?  Of cour-of course not, Gideon,” he was chuckling, wiping his face and shaking his head, “No, no, of course not.  He did give me a threat.”

A threat.  “A-A threat?”

He nodded, taking out a piece of paper, the same stationary.  He opened it and handed it over to Gideon.  This one was worded a little differently.

_ First of all, fuck you you scheming little rat.  I don’t care that you’ve got all the men wrapped around your fucking pinky finger.  I know what you’re on about.  You’re going to kill us all and get out of here, you and your dumbass lamp post of a brother.  You come anywhere within ten feet of me, and I’ll beat your ass so hard you’ll need him to carry you around.  It’s already the next logical step in your stupid clingy schtick anyway.   _

_ Don’t come near me, Ferrucio, or anyone else, for that matter.  If killing yourself was an end all to the game, you should try it. _

_ Mike _

The handwriting matched Mike’s.  Steven nodded, shaking his head.  “He is unwilling to let go of the stereotype Vincent and I have been...endowed with,” he sighed, “I hope that that helped you in some way.”

He turned back to Vincent as they talked about the lack of a transmission to the television, leaving Gideon with more questions than answers, but closer to the answer. 


	13. 1: AbNormal Days  - Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've had this one ready to go for a while, but I wanted to make sure I had another I could update. But I've also realized I have a weird update system, and because of college, this story will be updated at extreme randomness. I'm sorry. I've become the monster I despise.

The elevator sure could use some elevator music.  Maybe some soft jazz.  Some  _ smooth _ jazz.  That’d be real nice.

Gideon tried to occupy himself with thoughts that were unrelated to murder.  Freddy was humming something, at least.  He always had to fill the voids of sound with his own voice, but now probably wasn’t the best time to be breaking out into song.  It was a little comforting, though.

They were going down, to the infirmary, the lobby, then back up the kitchen.  They’d agreed to help wrap Classy, maybe bring a bed up and put him on it, like a final resting place.  It was the least they could do.  Terence would probably be interested in helping, so they were going to the lobby to check if he was there. 

“Wh-What do we ha-have so far?” Gideon asked Freddy, who sighed and took out a notebook.

“Well, you got the three notes from Mike, which seem to be tied to Classy’s death.  Then there’s the bottle with a different smell from the others that we’ve gotta ask Dee about, maybe it’s a different alcohol, maybe it’s something in the drink.”

“P-Probably poison.”

“The question is,” Freddy tapped his nose with the pen, “Who poisoned it?”

Gideon rolled his eyes and the elevator dinged.  Finding that the lobby was empty, they got back in the elevator, waited, and went to the infirmary.  Surprisingly, that’s where they found Mike and Terence.  Not necessarily together, but in the same area.  

Mike was being calmed down by Ferrucio in the infirmary.  A few beds away, Terence was being calmed by Alfie.  Freddy whistled slightly as they walked in.  “Where’s the party?” he murmured.

Terence shot him the angriest glare and went back to sulking.  Alfie rubbed his back and kissed his head, rumbling something warm to him, probably.  

Freddy let Gideon talk to Mike and Terence, going himself to check over the medicine cabinet.  He inspected the slots, which were all labeled with their name and type of drug.  Separated by….something.  He was a singer, not a fuckin’ doctor.  Yeesh.  

There was one section that seemed off.  All of the medicines were fully stocked, save for one line of eye drops, which were missing two cases, by the looks of it.  Freddy opened the cabinet, pulling one of the bottles of eye drops out and sniffing it.  

….Similar.  Alcohol could have changed it, but there were definitely similarities between this scent and the one coming out of the earlier bottle of now allegedly poisoned beer.  He made a mental note and pocketed the eye drops.

Meanwhile, Gideon was approaching Terence.  “I-I’m so-sorry for your lo-loss, Terence,” he said, carefully.  

Terence sniffed, nodding.  “Th-Thanks.  No one’s-no one’s che-checked on me yet, except A-Alfie,” he smiled up at Alfie, weakly, and ducked his head again, crying.

Alfie hugged him, rubbing his back.  Gideon nodded.  “So-Sorry if this is, uh, intrusive, but I was won-wondering if you kn-kn-knew anything that-that anyone thought of Cl-Classy.  Like, if he ha-ha-had any enemies here.”

“Classy?  Enemies?  Probably,” Terence ran a hand through his hair, eyes glazed with tears, “I don’t-don’t know who, though, and I can’t rea-really comprehend it.”

“Cou-Could you t-t-try?”

Terence bit his lip, nodding slowly.   “He….He wa-wa-wasn’t very personable, if you-you get my drift.  He sorta….he made people anxious.  He’s good at that, you can’t te-tell what he’s thinking, he’s passive, quiet.  It used to make people think he was scheming.”

Gideon took note of that.  “And th-that made people anxious.”

“Mhm,” Terence nodded, “Now, uh, can I rest a little?  I-I’m not looking foward to the trial.”

“I understand,” Gideon nodded, stepping back and giving him space.

Alfie patted his shoulder.  “Thank you, much, for looking into this so very much.  You and Freddy are seeming to be doing a thorough investigation.”

Gideon smiled, shakily.  Alfie was so BIG.  “Yea-Yeah, we wa-wa-want to get to the bo-bottom of this.”

Alfie nodded, one tilt of the head, and went back to comforting Terence.  Gideon stepped back and turned, looking over at Ferrucio and Mike.  Mike was staring quietly ahead as Ferrucio played with his hand, whispering things to him.  He must know how suspicious this looked.  He had to know.

Gideon approached, cautiously.  Ferrucio glanced up at him and smiled, waving with a hand.  “Hello, Gideon,” he called softly.

“H-Hi Ferrucio.  Mike.”

Mike nodded to him in affirmation.  Gideon stood awkwardly near by, shifting his weight from foot to foot.  It took quite a bit of courage to start  _ that _ conversation.  “So, um...I wa-was wondering if I co-c-could ask about Cl-Classy.”

Mike nodded, again.  “Sure.”

“Great!  Great, u-uh, great….” he didn’t think he’d get this far, “How-How did the ni-night go?”

Mike shrugged.   “It went alright.  Classy and I were playing video games.  Ferrucio was there, but he left around 5.  That’s around when you and Ja-Jason came.  Classy went to sleep while Ferrucio was there, right?” he turned to Ferrucio for confirmation, and he nodded.

“Yes, he-he was laying on the couch.  We stacked bottles on him upon seeing how-how asleep he was, but we didn’t imagine….we couldn’t imagine….” Ferrucio shook his head, looking away again.  

Mike sighed, hugging himself a little.  “I can’t believe….I can’t believe it.”

Gideon exhaled.  At least he wasn’t being met with a violent rebuttal, like he’d expected.  He looked back at Mike as he continued.   “Classy said he’d ha-had too much of that beer,” was what Mike said, “Maybe…..No.  No, I don’t want to make….I can’t make accusations right now, but….He just fell asleep.  Just….fell asleep.”

He was in shock.  Ferrucio rubbed his hand, squeezing it and hugging his waist carefully.  He was trying to hard to keep him grounded and comforted.  Gideon took note of the entire scene as he stepped back.  He looked at Freddy just as he slid the eyedrop bottle into his pocket.  He smiled and gave Gideon a thumbs up.

Gideon smiled.  He could always rely on his brother.  

They got back in the elevator.  They stopped by Dee’s room, too.  They needed that list of ingredients.

She was there, alright.  She cracked the door open a little, frowning.  “Uh.  Hi.”

Freddy waved, smiling as well as he could.  It looked tired.  He was tired.  It’d been a real trying day.  “Hey, Dee.  We’re trying to look into the murder, and we were wondering if you could give us a list of ingredients that’re in your brew.  Heard you supplied the alcohol.”

She chuckled and winked.   “Who else’ll give alcohol to high schoolers than another high schooler?  Hang on, I’ll write it down for you.”

She left the door for a moment, to jot down the ingredients .  Freddy hummed a tune, swinging on spot, and Gideon patted his shoulder.  That was his brother, always singing.  Dee came back with a bottle of the brew and a list of ingredients.  “There, that should be enough info.  That’s the entire recipe, down t’ tha measurements!” she chirped, “I hope that helped ya boys!”

“More than you know,” Freddy tipped his top hat, “Thanks, Dee.”

“No problemo, Freddy.”

“ALRIGHT YOU BASTARDS!”

Freddy screamed, clutching Gideon close as the scratchy voice of Kirikuma blasted over the intercoms.  “YOUR HOUR OF INVESTIGATION IS U-U-UP!  PILE INTO THE ELEVATOR AND HEAD ON DOWN, DOWN DOWN, DOWN DOWN DOWN, TO THE COURT ROOM!”

Freddy was still holding Gideon tight once it turned off, panting a little.  He groaned, shaking his head.  “I can’t take this,” he grunted into Gideon’s shoulder.

Gideon patted his back, motioning for Dee to follow as he dragged his brother to the elevator.  They got in, as it’d been on the floor, and it sped up, picking up Chica from the kitchen floor.  Slowly, one by one, all of the living people were picked up, until all of them were SOMEHOW squeezing into the elevator.  Kirikuma must have made it larger, somehow.  Or maybe the elevator had always been this big.  Gideon couldn’t remember, but he knew he had to expect the unexpected now.  Everything was unexpected.

None of them had pressed any buttons, but the elevator was still heading down, and down, and down….

Until it stopped.  The first doors opened, the inside of the elevator.  They were presented with a small segway room, red carpeted, beautiful art on the walls.  A large mirror hung, landscape, showing all of them.  

The large black doors before them opened.  

Into the courtroom they went.


	14. 1: AbNormal Days — Courtroom 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's part two of today's update!

Gideon was pretty sure they’d been falling for over ten minutes, and he was getting more and more confused about the distance.  How fucking deep was this courtroom?  It was disconcerting. 

He stole a glance at Freddy, who was humming quietly besides him, hand intertwined tight with his brother’s.  They were both pretty scared and were afraid that their searches would be in vain, but what else could they do?  Gideon watched his reflection in the glass on the other side, over Magnolia’s shoulder.  It was the first time he’d focused so much on his image, and he only noticed he was in better shape than he’d thought.  A few weeks ago, he and Freddy began working out together — a way both to force Freddy to stop focusing on songwriting at all times and a way to force Gideon to get into a shape he’d feel more confident to enter Hope’s Peak in.  Sure, it was mundane, but Gideon almost felt better seeing the bulk beneath his suit.  Work paid off. 

He hoped the investigation’s work would pay off too, and then tried to not think of it anymore.  Too much thinking would lead to nervousness and nervousness would lead to misspeaking and stuttering and this was not a time to be misunderstood.  

After an eternity, the elevator stopped.  The group shifted around nervously, Magnolia holding Dee’s arm tighter, Foxy puffing up his chest and trying to ready his courage, Alfred squeezing Terence carefully.  A breath was held, then the doors opened.

There were sixteen podiums arranged in a circle, though Kirikuma was sitting on a throne behind the podium farthest from the elevator.  Everyone shuffled out of the elevator, slow at first, afraid that the courtroom itself would kill them.  “Hurry up!  We don’t have all day, and I want to get this show on the road!” Kirikuma shouted.

The podiums all had names, indicating who should be at which.  Gideon could feel his heartbeat in his throat and in his feet as he took each step towards his podium, a golden plaque on the inside with the words “Gideon Frederick Fazbear” written in beautiful cursive.  Like a golden apple to cause a war.  He put his hands on the sides of the podium and waited for everyone else to get settled. 

Kirikuma also waited for everyone to stop moving before he gave instructions again.  “Alright!  Now, this’ our first session, but you’ll have to remember this for whenever someone gets shanked!  This’ an open floor debate, all theories, evidences, threats, everything’s valid and a-okay to be said.  At the end, there’ll be a vote for who’s the killer.  If you get it right, then we get to PUNISH!” 

The bear shouted “punish” with an extreme fervor, jumping around on his throne in glee.  He spun around and plumped back down, striking a pose in the face of everyone’s fear.  “Get it wrong!  And the killer goes free, absolutely free!  And everyone else dies!”

“Dies how?” Freddy asked, leaning over his elbow.

“Oh, I dunno.  It all depends on how I’m feelin’ when you all reach your verdict.” The bear rolled over as though he were sleeping and waved his arm.

Silence.  Gideon glanced around at everyone else and found more scared eyes, confused eyes.  “Should we start?” Mike asked.

“Go ahead!”

Gideon took a deep breath and began

“It was DEFINITELY Dee,” Ferrucio shouted.

Dee gasped, turning red.  “Now, mista’, I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’d like to see some proof about that!” 

Ferrucio was leaning over the podium, glaring at her.  He pointed across the circle’s gap at her.  “I picked the alcohol up from you that morning!  After I brought it to the game room, the batch never left Mike’s or my sight.  No one could have added poison to Classy’s drink!”

“That’s ridiculous, that’s all the evidence you have?!” Magnolia snapped.

“That is all the evidence I need!”

Gideon could sense this would go in circles. He looked at Freddy, but Freddy was jotting something down on his notepad and thus was probably not actually paying attention.  That meant he had to intervene.

“N-Now, let’s try t-t-to keep it together.  We can’t ju-ju-j-just throw out accusations,” Gideon said.

He was trying to calm the group down, but he seemed to just make everyone more agitated.

“Well, why aren’t we accusing Mike, then?” Magnolia shouted, “You and him were watching the alcohol, so it was probably one of YOU.”

“Now wait there, I took an OATH—” 

Chica cut him off, waving her arm dismissively.  “Oath smoath!  Your life’s on the line, you’ll act just as recklessly as the rest of us!”

Mike glared at her, fingers twitching on the podium. He opened his mouth again to retort, but Jason cut him off.  “How d’ we know any of you didn’t kill him?  Nothing ever said WHEN he was poisoned, only that he was!”

Now that was a question Gideon definitely knew the answer to.  He knocked his hand on his podium loud enough to attract general attention, then he shouted, “I KNOW WHEN!”

All eyes were on him.  Oh no.  Oh no, Gideon didn’t like this, oh no.  His hands began to tremble, holding the podium tighter.  Oh no, no, no.

“Gideon?” Freddy called from across the circle, “We figured this out, didn’t we?”

Yes.  Freddy knew he was right, Freddy was there.  He would support him.  Gideon swallowed.  Was he overheating?  He was definitely overheating.  Maybe he was having a panic attack.  He was definitely having a panic attack.  

Gideon swallowed that too and took his hands off the podium.  He rolled his wrists and took a deep breath.  “When Freddy and I che-ch-checked the game room, we-we smelled the alcohol bottles and in-and in-ins-inspected them.  The one in Cl-Cla-Cla-Classy’s bottle smelt di-different from the normal ones.”

“You smelt all of them?” Bruce asked.

“Only some of them, but Classy’s was the only odd one out.  It doesn’t seem like they’d’ve poisoned half of them.  Then at least Mike or Ferrucio would also be dead,” Freddy explained.

Freddy set down his notepad and pen and leaned on one arm, listening.  Gideon watched him, trying not to focus on the impending death of the group.  “The-The smell of Classy’s drink was rea-rea-r-it smelled sterile, like a-like a me-medical drug.”

“Medical?  How do you know it’s medical?” Ferrucio glared at him from the side.

Gideon shrugged, his heart rate speeding up.  Ferrucio’s glare intensified and burned into Gideon, burning him from the inside, killing him, Gideon was going to die, oh, God, he was going to die.

“We noticed there was an eyedrops bottle missing, and so we smelt it since it was the only thing that was missing, and it smelled real similar to what we smelled in Classy’s booze.  Minus the alcohol scent from the booze,” Freddy explained.

He nodded to Gideon with a smile.  They’d researched well.  The thought was calming Gideon down a bit more and he let out a sigh of relief.  They weren’t going to die.  He could do this.


	15. 1: AbNormal Days — Courtroom 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> people gon die!!!!!! huzzah!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to my longest running and longest written work so far, other than my newspaper author page. ive written about 30 pages of notes for this series so don't worry, it won't die any time soon. i just work very very very slowly. anyway thank u and next chapter will be an execution
> 
> also Vote Now!

“Alright, let’s get this trial rolling!”

Kirikuma spun around on his chair and fell back, listening lazily now. Gideon gave him a tiny frown before turning back to the trial, face set in a stoic frown. His knuckles were white from gripping the sides of his podium, but that was okay. He could do this. 

“Eye drops. You think someone put eyedrops in Classy’s, and only Classy’s drink?” Magnolia asked, “How would they know whose drink is Classy’s?”

“That-Th-That’s why-I don’t want to point fi-fingers, but the evidence points to the killer being so-someone in the room with him wh-wh-when he died,” Gideon explained. 

Freddy nodded, looking at Magnolia with a squint, then to Mike, and Ferrucio. “Yeah. We smelt a few other bottles, and the only one with that weird scent was the one in Classy’s hand, the one Mike said earlier Classy’d been drinking from.”

“But I didn’t kill nobody!” Mike snapped, “I-I gave an OATH, I wouldn’t kill anyone! Killing’s a crime!”

He pounded his fist on the podium, brow creased in anger as he stared Freddy down. Gideon watched his brother, worried he’d cave since Freddy was not necessarily the confrontational type, but he held firm. Freddy rubbed the side of the podium and began drumming his fingers against it, a tune. 

“Maybe we can start there,” he said, “We can eliminate the possible people. I’ve got an alibi, Vincent, Steven, Alfie, and Terence were all with me when the alarms went off, and Vincent and Steven for nearly the entire day before that.”

Vincent nodded, as did Steven. “Oui,” Vincent said, “He was with us. We were showing him how to throw knives which may be not very safe, but it was a controlled environment and no one was damaged.”

That was three down. Alfie raised his hand. Vincent gestured to him, and slowly, Alfie lowered his hand again to rest on top of his other on the podium. “I do not think, after how Terence has reacted to Clarence’s death, that we can suspect him for murder. Also, along with that, we were both in his room.”

“Kissing?” Dee asked.

Alfie turned bright red, and Terence wasn’t paying enough attention to answer. Gideon squinted at Terence. Was he? He didn’t look like he was paying attention, he was fiddling with his ascot, playing with the fabrics and running his fingers along the suede side. Again, his brother just died, but….well. Brotherly rivalry was something Gideon knew a lot about, but he didn’t think it could ever turn to murder. 

“Terence?” he asked, interrupting whatever Dee had been saying. 

Terence looked up, blinking like a deer in headlights. He looked around the room quickly before smiling timidly at Gideon. “Sorry. I….I was with Alfie. I don’t know anything, I just don’t want to….talk about my dead brother,” he said.

This was uncharacteristic of the typically bold Terence Bonneth. All the reviews and notes about him that Gideon had found said he was outspoken the point of narcissism, but this….definitely wasn’t it. 

“You were really close with your brother, weren’t you?” Gideon pursed his lips after he said the words, worried he was overstepping a boundary.

Alfie opened his mouth and Terence waved his hand to him, indicating that he was fine. “Yes. Classy and I were….well. He was a little distrusting of me, but I love him very much. Loved. Past tense.”

Terence looked down at his podium. “I don’t want to be interrogated. I don’t know anything.”

“Gideon,” Freddy said, “Interrogated.”

Gideon glanced at Freddy, who was watching him with the same face he had when they would watch mystery shows together. Interrogated. What about that was so interesting? 

They’d interrogated a few people. Mike. Dee. Steven, to get the note, and Jason, and Alfie. Fuck. Which one was Freddy talking about?

“Which-whi-which one?” he asked. 

Freddy was already past that. He snapped his fingers and pointed to Kirikuma. “Hey! Fat gold bear dude!” he asked.

“Fat?! Who’re you calling FAT, Fatbear!” Kirikuma jumped up and shook his bear fist at Freddy.

He seemed nonplussed, though, and waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, whatever. What were the rules about the TV announcement again?” he asked.

Kirikuma huffed angrily and plopped back onto his butt, crossing his arms on the way down as a sign of dismissal. “Everyone gets notified when two people, not including the murderer, have discovered a dead body, now get on with it!” 

“Two people. Alright,” Freddy pointed back to Gideon, “You said Classy was there before you?”

It was clicking in Gideon’s mind. That’s right, if Classy had been in there with Mike and Fercuccio before Gideon and Jason got there, then that meant that, if neither of them had been the murderer, the alarm would have gone off while Gideon and Jason weren’t in the room. But they were in the room, given that they didn’t hear the alarm because they were in the room, and because they weren’t in the room because they didn’t hear the alarm, that meant that they were the two people who discovered the body, or at least one of them was the second. 

“S-Since Jason and I were-were in the room when the al-alarm went off, that mea-means that either bo-both of us, or one of us, was the two people who disco-cov-disco-found the body,” Gideon said, aloud, “Meaning either the-the killer is M-Mike or Fercuccio.”

The room was quiet. At least, for a second or two, as the declaration sank in. 

Jason interrupted the silence. “Hey, gold boy,” he asked.

“For the LAST TIME, I’m—”

“Oh, give it a rest. Can there be two killers?” 

Kirikuma stared at him like he was an idiot, which was quite the feeling to give off considering Kirikuma didn’t have a moving face. The disdain hung in the air like a blanket. “....There  _ can _ be, but for this one, there’s only one. One teensy weensy little murderer!” 

“And it ain’t an accident? Like, someone didn’t accidentally tip some eyedrops into the drink—”

“Oh, how the fuck is killing another person an accident, mon ami?” Steven interjected, rubbing his forehead, “That is the densest thing I have heard you ever say.”

Jason laughed. “You met me, like, three days ago!” 

“And you did not seem like an idiot then!” 

The arguing was getting Gideon anxious. He knew something about the accident thing, it had to be murder. What was it?

“Like you’re one to talk, mister I throw knives for a living!” Chica snapped at Steven.

Steven gasped, hand drawing close to his chest, and shouted something at her in French. It must have been bad because Magnolia recoiled in Chica’s stead and shouted right back at him, in French. 

C’mon, Gideon. Freddy was too nervous now. If only he could remember what it was, he’d filed it away in his mind—

File!

“The-The Kirikuma file!” Gideon shouted, over the dim of the room.

It dulled down, quieting so he could speak. Gideon cleared his throat. “The Kirikuma file! It sa-said, along with the poi-po-p-eyedrops, that Classy had a br-bruise on his wrist. That wou-wouldn’t be on there if it-if-if it were pre-existing, the files li-list things about the mur-m-murder. So maybe the ki-killer held him down?”

“Like, the killer fought him, and Classy fought back?” Bruce asked.

“That does make sense,” Crevan said, nodding to Gideon in support, “So it ain’t an accident, and the killer’s either Mike or Fercuccio.” 

Fercuccio spluttered, angry again. “Mike is no killer and neither am I! It must have been someone else!”

Mike glanced at Fercuccio worriedly, then at the group. “Is-Is there any information we can give you to prove we’re innocent?” he asked, directing his question to Gideon.

Gideon bit his lip. What did they need? Maybe…

“What-What happened before Classy and you all we-went to the game room?” he asked, “Maybe someone-someone poisoned him earlier and it se-set in then.”

Mike nodded. “So...I had to give Classy his note and tell him to meet us there, and I did that at about 9 a.m. He wasn’t happy about waking up that early. I thought about apologizing to Steven, but….I’m gonna be honest, I still think he’s going to be the first killer,” he gestured with his thumb to Steven, who was at the podium besides him, “And the thought got me mad so I wrote him a note. Fercuccio came back with the alcohol just as I got my pen and paper to write the note. Then Classy came, and we were all drinking for a bit and when I finished the note, I left for like two minutes to slip it beneath Steven’s door. Then I came back and we kept playing video games.”

Fercuccio nodded, and agreed with everything he said. “I went to Dee to pick up the drink at about 11 a.m. and then took them to the game room. I went back to my room after dropping them in the game room, then I came back at 2 p.m., when Mike was going to get the paper. Then Classy came and we started drinking, and then Mike left, and Classy and I just sat there. Nothing weird happened. The eyedrops must have been in the drink when I picked it up—”

“That batch o’ booze never left my sight, and Magnolia here knows I ain’t a killer, she was with me the whole time,” Dee shouted. 

Magnolia nodded vigorously. “Yeah! We were in the kitchen, Chica was there too! They were showing me how to make flour!”

Chica nodded as well, looking around. “We were all cookin’, it ain’t one of us.”

“Unless everyone’s just saying they’re in groups to cover their own tracks,” Bruce murmured quietly.

Gideon glanced at him. Bruce was leaning onto his podium, arms crossed on top of it, head lazily tilted to the side. He didn’t seem like he cared much. “Wh-What do you th-thi-think, Bruce?” he asked.

Bruce looked up at him. He grinned a tiny bit. “Have you read the note Steven got? I think that’s real damning on Mike, if he’s gonna start encouraging people to kill themselves,” he said, “My vote’s pretty locked in.”

Mike scoffed, leaning forwards. “Hey! That note was a moment of weakness — and how do I know you or even the lil’ mongrel didn’t kill him?” 

Steven groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Vincent tutted and turned to Mike. “You need to calm down, Michael. Your unwarranted paranoia is making you more of a target than you may have planned, but if you  _ are _ innocent, you should stop pointing fingers at people who were already proven innocent. It makes you look more guilty.”

As though to retort, Mike opened his mouth, and a tiny squeak was released. His hand, which had been pointing up, closed, as did his mouth, and he looked down at the podium. “....You’re right,” Mike whispered, “I...The rumors—”

“I am FIVE FEET TALL, HOW would I be able to kill someone?” Steven shouted, throwing his arms into the air, “YOU ARE THE ONE WITH THE GUN LICENSE.”

Mike rubbed his face, looking at Steven. “I shouldn’t have been….like a dick. Or just assumed you were a murderer,” he said, voice a bit quieter, “I’m sorry.”

Steven squinted at him and turned back around to the group. He crossed his arms and leaned on the podium, looking up at Gideon as though he expected him to continue leading the trial.

Which, to be fair, Gideon and Freddy sort of had been. They were swept up, as the rest of the room had been, in watching Mike and Steven argue. Freddy was the first to clear his throat. “Alright, uh….Okay. Moving on. Mike, when’d you deliver the letter, anyway?”

“Just after Classy came over,” Mike said.

“You said that earlier, too. I just wanna be real clear here,” Freddy put his hands together and pointed at Mike with both of them, “That left Ferrucio and Classy alone, yeah?”

Mike froze, pressing his mouth into a thin line. Gideon looked at Freddy, who raised an eyebrow slowly. What was his brother playing at? Did he really think….

“Classy and I just had a drinking game, a little small one. It was not anything to kill a person, and I am no killer!” Ferrucio shouted, scowling at Freddy, “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying, the only person who was alone with Classy since this morning, at all, was you,” Freddy explained calmly.

Ferrucio grit his teeth. Gideon watched Mike glance at Ferrucio, face blank and calculating. They had, after all, just met. 

“Hang on,” Crevan waved his hook, “I wouldn’t say Ferrucio’s a killer, not just based on that. What if the eyedrops killed Classy, but he’d drunken them hours before? And just hadn’t died until then?” 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Freddy said, “They were in the bottle of booze. We can test the scents and pass them around, if you all want. I assume we’re allowed to do that?”

The question was more directed to Kirikuma, who waved his hand lazily and groaned. He didn’t see to care much. 

“I don’t think that’s needed, I just have a hard time grasping why Ferrucio, or anyone,” Crevan nodded to Ferrucio, who had bristled, “Would want to kill Classy.”

Gideon’s brow furrowed with Freddy’s. He’d been letting his brother deal with this more, but this one he thought he knew. 

“Terence tol-told us something, earlier, about how-how Cla-Cl-Classy acts. He’s more…..a-a-aloof. If-If you were a-afra-afraid he’d ki-kill you, then you-you might kill him fi-first, in se-se-s-self defense, yeah?’ Gideon offered.

“How’s it self defense to poison someone?” Terence snapped, squinting at Gideon.

Gideon put his hands up. “I-I mea-mean—”

“He’s right, Terence, and maybe poison isn’t the method you’d use to kill someone, but goddamn if you’re scared, you’ll do anything,” Jason cut in, “Sorry to cut you off, bear cub.”

Gideon’s brow furrowed at Jason. Did he know him? When’d they make nicknames?

He shook his head and turned back to Terence. “It-It’s a ba-bad motive, but f-f-fear’s po-powerful.”

Terence bit his lip and looked down. Gideon wanted to say something else, to comfort him, but he couldn’t think of anything. He just watched as Terence leaned over the podium and hid his face. Crevan, who was besides him, patted his shoulder gently, and Terence leaned over and hugged him. Okay. Good. Gideon let out a breath and looked around the circle as everyone seemed to be mulling over their own thoughts. 

“Alright,” Gideon said, “A-Al-Alright. So. Fear. And-And….Mike?”

Mike looked up at Gideon, rubbing his face a tiny bit. “Yes?”

“The-The alarm went off when Ja-Jason and I walked into the room, right?” Gideon asked, “So you did-didn’t hear it ei-e-either, right?”

Mike nodded. “I didn’t hear the alarm, yeah. ‘Cause the game room’s soundproof.”

“Y-Yeah. So the alarm went off ‘cause Jason and I saw the dead body, which you-wh-which you-you said was-was un-unconsci-ci-c-cious,” Gideon said.

Mike sucked in a breath. “Yeah. Ferrucio said that.”

“Ferrucio?”

Mike nodded solemnly. Ferrucio was glaring at him from the side, eyes wide and afraid. “Mike?!” he breathed.

“After I came back from dropping off the letter to Steven, Ferrucio said he-he and Classy had been having a drinking game, and he was passed out on the couch,” Mike murmured. 

“We-We did, we both drank around three bottles,” Ferrucio whispered, looking around, “I-I went to bed because I was drunk!” 

Mike turned to him, eyes a tiny bit wider, frown a bit stiffer. “Classy was alive when I left! And I didn’t bruise him!” 

“I didn’t touch him—”

“He didn’t just drop dead! Ferrucio, please—”

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE, MIKE,” Ferrucio shook his podium, though it didn’t move much.

Mike opened his mouth again, but Gideon put his hand out and stopped him. He watched Ferrucio carefully.

“....Ferrucio, wha-wh-what’s in your p-po-pockets?” he asked quietly.

Ferrucio hid his face and shook his head. “He-He had a-he-he ha-had a-a-a-a knife, he-he was-he was-was going to-to-to kill-kill me,” he whimpered.

“Ferrucio,” Gideon whispered gently.

“And-And then Mi-Mike le-left me a-a-alone wi-with him and-and I-I didn’t wa-wa-want to die, so-so-so I-I put the-the-the—” 

“He had a knife?” Freddy asked quietly.

“I gave him one. Classy asked,” Steven whispered, “He-he was going to visit Mike, he told me, and he wanted a small knife to feel safe.”

“Mon dieu, Steven, you cannot just give out knives,” Vincent hissed.

Steven shrugged weakly and went back, as everyone else was, to watching Ferrucio cry against his podium. He rubbed his eyes and sniffed, shaking his head. “I-I didn’t wa-want to die,” he whispered.

“Ferrucio, please. What’s in your pockets?” Freddy asked for Gideon. 

Ferrucio shuffled his hand around one of the pockets on his pants and set a small vial onto his podium — the same vial that the eyedrops had been in. A still silence hung around the room as everyone considered what this meant. 

Mike lifted the curtain. “....Ferrucio. You…”

“I-I didn’t want to-to-t-to die,” he whispered, “I-I-I was s-sca-scared.”

He hid his face in his hands again and leaned over, pressing against the podium. 

The sound of applause shattered the mournful atmosphere. Kirikuma jumped around on his chair. “Well! That just about wraps this tria~a~al up! Time to submit your votes!”

“Wait! Wait, wait, wh-what?” Ferrucio asked, looking up, “I-I did it.  **I** did it! Don’t-don’t I ge-get to leave?!” 

Kirikuma laughed, his paws holding his belly jovially. “Of course not! If you bastards remember the rules from earlier, THAT means now’s the time to vote on who the  _ obvious _ killer is! And then he gets executed!” 

“E-E-E-Exe-E—”

“Executed!” Kirikuma exclaimed happily. 

Ferrucio stared at the bear, mouth hanging agape. “I-I-NO! NO, NO YOU SAID,” he shouted, leaning forwards over the podium, face contorted into an angry glare, “YOU SAID IF-IF YOU KILLED, YOU COULD LEAVE! I WANT TO LEAVE!”

“If you killed and got away with it! Then everyone else would die! But you didn’t do that, soooooo~!” Kirikuma laughed, clapping his hands, “And everyone needs to cast a vote! Or else I’ll just kill everyone!” 

“NO! NO, NO, NO, NO! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" 

[ Vote Now! ](http://www.strawpoll.me/14797087)


	16. 1: Abnormal Days — Courtroom 3 — Chapter 1 END

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MURDER MURDER MURDER

As the results came in, Kirikuma laughed. “Now, that wasn’t so hard for a first trial, ain’t it?” 

Ferrucio was still sobbing, holding his podium tight. Gideon watched him mournfully. He was a good man. 

“Alright, alright! You’re right! It was  _ Ferrucio Bianchi!”  _ Ferrucio let out a loud sob as Kirikuma read his name, “One hundred percent! Now, let’s get this execution a’rollin’!” 

“Can we go now?” Mike shouted, “Off these podiums, I mean?”

Kirikuma shrugged. “Eh, why not?”

Mike hopped over his podium and sprinted to Ferrucio’s, hugging him tight. “You’re going to be okay. It’s-It’s going to be okay, Ferrucio. I know you were scared.”

“I-I-I’m a-a m-a m-murder-erer,” Ferrucio stuttered and spluttered, shouting into Mike’s shoulder.

Mike only held him tighter, giving him a squeeze as he shifted his arms’ hold around his waist. “I know. It-It isn’t black and white like that, though, you-he had a knife, you were scared, it’s okay—”

“Woah, woah, woah! Don’t make him  _ too _ hopeful! We’re still executing him!” Kirikuma laughed. 

Mike’s head snapped up, glaring at Kirikuma. “What?! No! Not on your life!” he shouted, holding Ferrucio tighter. 

“Mike?” Ferrucio whispered.

“He’s a killer, he just said it! You’re real two sided for a security guard, Mikey!” Kirikuma chided him, jumping onto Ferrucio’s podium and hitting Mike’s head.

Mike swatted at him with his hand, growling. “He was scared, he doesn’t deserve to die!” 

“Mike,” Ferrucio breathed. 

“And I’m not going to let you kill him!” Mike finished, ignoring Ferrucio yet again, “This game is sick, this entire thing is sick as hell! You’re a monster!”  

Kirikuma looked around at the rest of the shell-shocked crowd before leaning in closer to Mike. “Took you long enough to figure that one out, slick,” he joked, patting Mike’s head again. 

“Mike.”

“What?!” Mike looked down at Ferrucio, who was staring at Kirikuma with wide, teary, fearful eyes. 

“S-Something-Something’s got-got my-my leg,” Ferrucio whispered. 

The claw, which had slid out from behind one of the walls, closed on Ferrucio’s ankle. In a flash, he was yanked out of Mike’s grip, and his screaming echoed off the hall’s walls as he was pulled to his death. 

“Alright! That’s what I’m talking about!” Kirikuma screamed in delight as he swung his tiny mallet down on the rising red button. 


	17. Chapter 1 Execution — Junkyard Recycling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :^)

The claw dragged Ferrucio down the hall, down, down, down, until it stopped. The claw turned into an ankle bracelet, and he was pinned to the ground. 

Around him were large machines, and a few old broken down cars. There were cars in rows and columns, like a grid. 

_ Junkyard Recycling _

He reached down, yanking at the metal bracelet that held him to the ground, but then the ground lurched. Ferrucio was on a conveyor belt, and it yanked him a few spaces forwards.

He sat up and looked forwards. Before him was a tall arch, tubes on all sides. The car in front of him was beneath it. 

And then the tubes burst into flames, shooting fire onto the car, burning the metal and melting it off. Ferrucio screamed, yanking at the ankle bracelet, sobbing. 

The fire burned for a few seconds — though it felt like eternity — then stopped. Then the conveyor belt moved forwards. Ferrucio let go of the ankle bracelet and wrapped up around himself but his efforts were futile. The fire shot onto him, and he screamed, curling up tighter as the flames licked his body. 

The fire stopped shooting, but he was still on fire, and the conveyor belt moved him forwards. He was now in a small “room”, walls on either side and above him, though in front of him was open. The flames were dying a bit, but his skin was still red and swollen in places. He peered through the hole on the other side, farther down the conveyor belt, and instead of a car saw a small metal box, wrapped in a small case of aluminum. 

His eyes widened, and he screamed. 

The sides came in with a crunch and his hat landed delicately on the belt in front of him as blood oozed from the compactor. The bloody aluminum box slid out with the conveyor belt and stopped in front of a pit.

A few more seconds, and the box slid into the pit, into the furnace, and was melted down with the rest of the metal. In front of the crowd was a box, with a plate at the front. The plate slid away, and a small statue of Ferrucio popped out, standing and holding a wrench. At the bottom were the words _"Ferrucio Bianchi — He didn't want to die."_


	18. Interlude 1

The alarm was blaring while Frederick woke up. He groaned, rolling onto his knees tiredly. What had happened? The simulation had begun, Mary was watching the setting while Loquet monitored the health of the subjects. Everything was fine. It  _ had _ been fine. 

I mean, something had to have gone wrong for him to have woken up on the ground with a throbbing headache, stowed beneath the table. He knew something had to have gone wrong, but what? Another mishap, like what had happened with the Future Foundation’s simulation? He knew trusting their technology would come at a cost, but he thought they’d calculated the limits enough. You can’t hack real life like you can a computer. 

But, still. Something did. 

Pull yourself together, Fazbear. You have a job to do. Frederick reached up with his arm and pulled himself up a little, scanning his surroundings. The circular panels, with workers at each desk, were all off, and those manning those desks were slumped over their spaces. 

Unconscious at best. Dead, possibly. He ran his hand through the hair of the man next to him and felt a bloodied wound. Carefully, he checked for a pulse. Yeah, dead.

He sighed quietly and walked around, watching out onto the ground floor. The observation window hadn’t been broken and he could clearly see that whatever had attacked them in the observation room hadn’t managed to breach the security on the ground floor.

Loquet waved at him, as did Mary. Them and a handful other workers, programmers and technicians who specialised in creating sets, were all warily standing in a circle, huddled close. 

It was good that they were safe. Frederick waved his hand at them, smiling a bit. Something about his appearance must have worried them, since Loquet covered his mouth and M pulled her hand back quickly. He couldn’t really fathom what, though, since he couldn’t see much of himself in the window. 

He walked around, all around the observation deck, and went for the door. The elevator was off, indicating that there was some sort of power failure, but the emergency stairs were also blocked by something. Frederick shoved into it, and the door didn’t budge. Something must be barricading it. 

After a few more hard pushes, he decided it wasn’t going to open. May as well accept life in this observation deck for the time being. He hurried to the top, the main desk, and looked over the displays. Power was out, redirected to emergency exits and locking mechanisms. If power wasn’t restored to the simulation soon, or to the communications relay, then they might be stuck there for days. Weeks. Maybe months. 

He flicked around the switches, rerouting the emergency power to keeping the automated security systems online, as well as to his and the ground floors’ programs. The previously off computers slowly buzzed to life. 

A large tremor shook the office, just as Frederick stood up. He held onto the desk, keeping himself steady, but rushed to the window. The base was shaking — something was hitting the wall below. He figured whoever had attacked them was trying to break into the ground floor. 

Just as he’d suspected, Mary, the main security detail, was already poised with her gun pointed at the door. Loquet waved his hand, shouting at the other technicians to continue with their jobs. 

The sound of rhythmic tapping, dull and quiet, meant that the automated security had turned on, and whoever was outside was getting gunned down. And the breaks in rhythm meant that the bullets from those guns were actually hitting something. 

Good. Good. Frederick had to buy them more time. 


	19. 2: (Ab)Normal Days — Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :^) thus begins another day

Gideon couldn’t remember how he had gotten back to his room that night. He rolled onto his back, staring at the dark ceiling of his room.

It had been a grizzly sight. Ferrucio’s remains rolled out of that wretched machine and Jason had to grab Mike to prevent him from attacking Kirikuma. Mike was crying, but so was Steven, who had thrown a knife at the bear in pure anger. The bear had only laughed, as though their anger had been vilified.

Even Terence, who one would suspect as being the least likely to mourn, sobbed enough into Alfie’s shirt to create a little puddle. Or maybe Alfie himself was crying that much, the tears dripping onto Terence’s head.

Everyone mourned. Freddy held Gideon’s arm tight, stabilizing the both of them. When Gideon returned to his room that night, he threw up in his bathroom’s toilet.

It was terrible. Despicable. How could that happen to anyone? How could anyone do that to anyone else? It was horrid.

It was the life they were living now. Kirikuma reminded them of that.

_BEEP_

_BEEP_

_BEEP_

_BEEP_

_Ding, dong, ding~!_

_“Good morning, you bastards~!  Time to start another beautiful day~!”_

Gideon was really not here for this. He wanted to go home, back to his father who loved him, to his other father who loved him too, to his lovely chicken pet, his room with the seven blankets. He didn’t want this.

He pulled himself out of bed slowly. He hadn’t realized he didn’t sleep, but then again, it wasn’t like they didn’t have a regime. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just go back to sleep after breakfast.

It would be best go to to breakfast. It would be proof that everyone was alive — it was like an unspoken rule that everyone had left yesterday’s trial with. Everyone was going to be at breakfast, as soon as they could be, in order to prove life, and Gideon had to be there. After that, he could try to sleep. Maybe he’d ask his brother to share a bed, they used to do that when they were children. Freddy’s presence was usually calming in tense situations, and this was more tense a situation than Gideon’d ever thought he’d be in.

Gideon pulled on some clothes out of the wardrobe, made out of the clothing he’d brought when he transferred to the dorms here, and slowly trudged out of his room. He was alone as he stood in the elevator, riding it up to the dining hall. He was not, however, the first in to the hall.

Steven and Vincent were sitting together, chairs scooted close, sipping from mugs of coffee. Neither had bothered to change out of pajamas, Steven wearing a crazily oversized sweater and Vincent in matching silk pajamas. He looked up and waved, while Steven kept his head down, sipping his coffee from time to time.

Gideon waved, too. He went to the kitchen and, finding it to be empty, made a few waffles and poured himself a mug of coffee.

The dripping of the coffee into the mug was unsettling. It was just like the dripping of blood.

He didn’t want to die.

Gideon took the mug and his plate of waffles and headed back to the dining hall. He sat down, set the plate out — he’d made too many, but not enough for the large crowd who would soon be arriving. “Did-D-Did you sleep okay?” he asked the Greys, to which Vincent responded, “One of us did.”

Steven pressed his face against Vincent’s shirt and whispered something in French too fast and quiet for Gideon to understand. Gideon watched Vincent run his hand through Steven’s hair and hug him a little closer, whispering something just as undecipherable back.

Gideon wanted Freddy.

The people filed in slowly, in pairs and singles. Next was Mike, who was wearing the loungiest clothing he seemed to own, hair messy and eyes dark. He didn’t seem to have slept, and it was for fair point. He sat down and took a few waffles.

“Who made these?” he asked, voice hoarse — he had yelled it out after the trial 

“I-I did,” Gideon said, “You’re we-welco-we-you can t-take some.”

Mike nodded in thanks and took a single waffle, picking it apart slowly as he ate. Chica and Dee shuffled in after him, holding each other’s arms worriedly. Magnolia followed short after and rushed into the kitchen just after they’d gone in, hoping to stay in a pack, evidently.

Crevan was next, hook gone. It was apparently removable, since he had half an arm now, shrouded in a large t-shirt. He waved his other hand at Gideon and plopped down besides him, groaning and stretching. “What a hard place we’ve moved into,” he grunted, “Better or worse than the rock?”

Gideon shrugged. “I don-don’t know,” he mumbled, and truthfully, he didn’t.

Crevan sighed as well and took a waffle, nudging Gideon. “These up for grabs?” he asked.

Gideon nodded, and Crevan ate. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, listening to the others come in. Bruce, Jason. Terence and Alfie, together. Freddy at some point came in and sat besides him on the other side, indicative by a pat on the arm.

“Did you sleep okay?” Freddy asked, “I don’t think I caught a wink.”

Gideon hummed. “I-I didn’t, either,” he whispered.

 “Do you wanna take a nap together after breakfast?”

He nodded; Gideon would like that. He sat upright slowly, eyes opening to look around. It didn’t seem like anyone was missing. Good. No one had died. No one had died _yet._ It was always an option now that someone would die, and that they would have to witness another execution. Gideon was terrified.

“....What now?” Chica asked, voice soft. 

Her, Magnolia, and Dee had rejoined the table after making a suitable number of pancakes for everyone. Unfortunately, it seemed like those pancakes were going to go uneaten, since barely anyone had touched the waffles as it was. No one had any appetite.

 “We just….live,” Crevan suggested, “Ain’t nothin’ we can do now but mourn.”

 “To hell with that. We….there’s….there’s got to be something,” Mike hissed, but his voice didn’t have the strength he had to back up his claims, “We can keep looking around, see if there’re any exits.”

“....We don’t know if that’ll be fruitful. It might not even be worth the trouble, now. The damn bear doesn’t care if we live or die,” Jason rubbed his mouth, “I’d like some smokes.” 

Dee shot him a small glare and looked back around at the table. “It’s still worth a shot, yeah? We-We might find some things, some things we didn’t see the first time around.”

“Everyone is tired today. It is no use searching today, we may as well start tomorrow,” Vincent explained, “Or two days. It is not like we are running out of time or anything.”

“Touché. We can start looking and start discussing it in a day, today’s just….no one wants to do that right now, Mike, and I’d reckon even you don’t,” Freddy gave him a soft smile.

Mike scowled, and looked down, but he didn’t object. No one said anything for the longest of whiles, until Steven broke the silence.

“....I am sorry that your friend is dead,” he whispered.

Mike looked up, glaring weakly at him. “What’s it to you?” he hissed.

“It is horrible to watch anyone die. Least of all someone who is important to you. I am very sorry, and we will work hard to leave this place. For him, and for Classy,” Steven nodded to Terence, “But we cannot work enough when we are so down.”

Gideon rubbed his chin. This was thoughtful. “Let’s-Let’s meet up again in-in a few da-days, then. To plan out our-our atta-attack plan.”

Murmurs of agreement arose from the table. Everyone wanted to work to get out. For Ferrucio, and for Classy.


End file.
